Uplifted: Arrival
by DarkDanny
Summary: Definitive Edition: The fronts may hold, but in the Greater German Reich the battle for the Fatherland's soul is now nearly into its third month. As two simultaneous wars are waged across occupied Europe, and the quarian admiralty prepare their people for their new home on Earth, a third war has begun. National Socialists beware: Joachim Hoch has got you in his crosshairs...
1. Two Months Later

**Chapter One: Two Months later**

 **…**

 _ **"UNTIE ME THIS INSTANT! UNTIE ME NOW, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"**_

He wasn't sure how this had happened. He had been expecting colleagues to take him and his wife to the National Socialist strongholds in North Germany. As he had opened the door for his guests, the stock of a rifle greeted him, knocking him unconscious. How long ago that had been, Obergruppenführer Oswald Pohl was could not say for certain. All he knew now was he was awake. He was now lying in his bedroom, his face undoubtedly bruising and now unable to move.

Worse yet, he had been tied to his bed. Oh God… What had he ever done to deserve this!

As he struggled against the ropes, the creaking of his door caught his attention. The door closed behind whoever the room now contained. The lights suddenly were flipped on.

Rotating his head, he took in the sight of what appeared to have been his captor with his back turned to him. He was a giant dressed in Heer officer's uniform, his long coat draped on the doorknob. He was pulling on a pair of gloves. From here Pohl could see the markings on the man's collars: He was an Oberst.

His struggling finally made the man turn around. Behind a very against regulation mountain man beard, that covered heavy facial scaring, was a sneer as sharp as the blue eyes which now glared down on him. He looked like the devil possessed him in the way he carried himself.

That was when he realized what was draped over the front of the Heer uniform.

It was a Butcher's apron.

He felt the bed press down as the huge man crumpled the bed springs; He reached into his pocket to produce SS identification papers. The man, who looked like he was living in the mountains, grinned menacingly as he looked from the identification papers to his victim.

"Obergruppenführer Oswald Pohl. Born 30th of June, 1892 divorced, onto your second wife, who is downstairs, a son, Ortwin in the Waffen-SS, even a daughter, Nortraut, an adult now," the giant rumbled as he tore up the papers that apparently belonged to the Obergruppenführer. "You are head of the _SS-Wirtschafts-Verwaltungshauptamt_ \- the SS Main Economic and Administrative Department - you deal primarily in the confiscation of concentration camp inmates valuables. You take their wedding rings, their wallets, their jewellery…. Even their gold fillings, which I have regretfully seen first-hand now."

The Wehrmacht Oberst reached out, his hand grabbing Pohl by his neck as he leaned forward to sneer directly in his face.

"I know this because I was summoned to a liberated SS controlled bank not a month ago," he growled, his teeth bared like an attack dog. "There were piles of wedding rings, jewellery, and yes, even gold fillings just waiting to be melted down. the moment I saw that, I knew I was coming after you as soon as I spotted you… and it appears your time is up."

You are little better than a thief under government mandate, aren't you? No… Not a thief… worse than a thief… you're a grave robber… from what I have seen of her, I imagine your wife is decorated in Jew gold, isn't she?"

All Pohl could do was sputter as he struggled against the steel grip the Oberst held against his windpipe. After several moments of increasing pressure, he let go, allowing Oswald a moment of wheezing breathing to bring him back to a clear mind. If that didn't bring him back then the sudden, resounding slap to the face did the trick.

"No, I don't _steal_... All valuables go towards funding the war effort!" he furiously denied.

His answer had no standing with the brute; Pohl was slapped again, even harder this time. This time the man laughed. It was the scariest laugh Pohl had ever heard. Both his hands wrapped around the SS man's shirt collar. His expression was that of pure loathing as he lifted Pohl up to meet him face to face.

"Well… if that's your reasoning, then I think it's about time that you contributed to the war effort."

Releasing his grasp on Pohl, the Oberst's hands moved up; one hand gripping him by his palate, the other by his mandible, with little resistance he pried it open and looked closer, inspecting Pohl's teeth as though he had been a dentist by trade before the war. The expression of seriousness turned into a smile as he pulled his right hand out of Pohl's mouth.

"It appears that you have a bit of gold yourself," he informed Pohl, still smiling like it was his birthday. "I know your underlings usually wait until they are dead, but for you, I think I could make an exception…"

Reaching into one of his belt kits, he opened it removed a pair of pliers. He dangles it as though it was a baby's toy. Oswald's eyes widened as he tried to scream through the steel grip of this fucking psychotic's hand. With all his might he bit hard at his hand, only to recoil in pain by just how strong it was. The lunatic did not flinch. Not in the slightest. Instead he turned hand into a fist, and then wedged open his mouth.

The pliers inched closer and closer. This was on purpose, the psychological effects of knowing what was going to happen was even more devastating than the actual event…

 _"W-Where's my wife,"_ he whimpered, his eyes begging his torturer. _"She's going to hear this... she can't… can't…"_

The tormentor wasn't moved, he didn't even blink.

The pliers wrapped around one of the back molars. A look of satisfaction crossed his expression as he took in Pohl's expression of terror.

With all his might, he pulled the molar and pliers back towards him. He did not twist and pull. He simply broke the tooth right out of the Obergruppenführer's mouth, pulling bits of Pohl's gums out with it, his blood splashed against the Wehrmacht man's apron. Pohl screamed, he screamed and screamed as the pain shot through his body like he had been dismembered. The blood caught in his throat and mouth, turning the scream into a gurgling cry that would haunt the Wehrmacht men downstairs nightmares.

The torturer did not react. He looked at the tooth, then to the gold. Idly he dropped the molar and pliers to the ground. He pulled himself away and, tilting Pohl's head to the side so that he did not drown in his own blood, he left the SS General's side. Pohl watched as he slicked his hand through his slightly longer then regulation hair.

Quietly he took a seat across the room from Pohl and slumped, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared blankly at his bleeding victim. He scoffed as he sat back and reached into his jacket, pulling out a gold cigarette case.

"In the past few months, I have come to learn a hard truth, Herr Pohl: In order to beat your kind, I have to be like you." The Oberst said as he lit a cigarette and placed the case back into his jacket. " I tried to be above them, but I know now how naïve I have been."

He inhaled his cigarette, staring off past the Pohl as he moaned as shuffled against his restraints.

The brooding Wehrmacht man blew smoke into Pohl's direction.

"Ernst Kaltenbrunner was right about me," he muttered to himself. "I'll be the most hunted man in the world when the smoke clears and what is left of you all realize what Joachim Hoch had done to them."

Oswald froze. His pain subsided as he realized now just who this bastard was. He was the traitorous SS officer who had murdered the Führer! Joachim Hoch was sitting across from him, torturing him! That bastard, that cowardly piece shit!

Inhaling his cigarette, Joachim Hoch stood up and stretched. He turned his back on him as he went towards the door.

"So like you I'll kill and torture," he said as he opened the door and stepped through it. "The only difference between us will be our victims. Yours didn't deserve it. Mine will."

As quickly as he exited the room, he was back in, closing the door. He stood there, leaning against the exit, finishing off his cigarette before dropping it and stamping his boot on it.

 _"Ab… ab I und' 'rrest?"_ Pohl attempted to slur out. Each word burned like hot embers.

Hoch stared at him blankly, and then he started to laugh.

" _Arrest_?" he repeated delightfully as he shook his head.

Hoch took two steps forward. A thumping and scraping noise immediately caught his attention.

Pohl wiggled his head to get a better view at the source of the noise. There, being dragging on the ground was an axehead, its handle limply grasped in Hoch's hand. Pohl moaned and struggled against the binding of rope. He screamed out as he tried to stop Hoch, he ignored his own pain as he cried out again and again until Hoch was standing over the bed, looking down on the SS man.

"You still mistake why I'm here, Herr Pohl," Hoch growled lowly. "You see… I'm no policeman, and frankly I'm done giving free passes to your types..."

The bastard traitor shook his head.

"No," he said, shaking his head to reveal the axe to the man. "I'm taking this axe here, I will chop right here…" the blade of the axe touched against his neck… "and present your head to your colleagues so that they are convinced to surrender peacefully. Greater good you see. Kill one; potentially spare many lives. For once in your miserable life, you're going to do something right."

Hoch pulled the blade of his axe from off Pohl's neck. The General sobbed as he stared up at his executioner. His eyes filled with tears that did not make Hoch change his mind in the slightest.

"Good bye, Oswald Pohl," was his finally words. "The world is better off without you."

With all his might, Joachim Hoch swung down hard.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Keelah, I cannot believe I'm actually doing this. Tell me it's all just a bad dream."

"I'm afraid not, daughter. If you are so eager to become Saleb's personal guardian, then you have start doing the things she wants to do. If that means you have to spend hours on end with gossiping mothers with nothing better to do, then by the Ancestors, you will do it."

Under her breath, Hanala'Jarva grumbled mutinously as she wrapped her head dress over her short hair. As she looked in the mirror to poke at the facial scars, she could see behind her that mother was crossing her arms. There was a slight smirk on her face as she listened to her daughter muttering to herself.

"Welcome to motherhood, Hanala." She said smugly, watching Hanala buckle at the statement, "Doing things that you hate, but your children love is the cornerstone to the job. Where your only reward is if you do it properly your child won't tell you that they hate you ten or twenty years down the line…. now go and get Saleb, we have a shuttle to catch."

Inwardly Hanala groaned as her mother's statement made her forgo any further fights against her new duties as a guardian… adoptive mother to her orphaned niece. Still… she was right. It would be difficult. It would be made more difficult when Saleb finally understood the exact reason why she was in her Aunt's care in the first place.

It had been just over ten days now that the adoption was legalized. Since returning back to the fleet shortly after the catastrophe that cost one hundred and twenty quarians lives including her brother and sister-in-law, Hanala had decided to make things right. She would do so by first off asking Saleb if she would like to live with her aunt shortly after having to break the heart-breaking loss to a four year old.

Of course this this wasn't an immediate process. Since the Earth month of February, Saleb had lived with her Grandmother while Hanala spent the months learning how to take care of a child. Something she had no experience doing, nor had she ever planned on having. Priorities shifted when one was to blame for the deaths of Saleb's parents. Now she was comfortable with having Saleb living on the _Bismarck_ with (though, mother did spend nights there as an extra small comfort for her granddaughter.)

Rolling her eyes at her mother, Hanala left her company and heading down out of the Admiralty lounge set up for her, went to Saleb's bedroom. The room was mostly unused. Saleb spent most of her nights clutched to her auntie. It helped her sleep so Hanala was more than happy to oblige that, even if it would cost her own rest.

Although she hated dealing with the stupidity of other parents, who invariably criticized her handling of Saleb once she got brought the guardianship to the public, she was getting used to this whole parenting thing. It was different from giving orders, or dating someone. It was always surprising what the worst day of her life had brought out in her.

Knocking twice and waiting, Hanala opened the door and stepped in quietly.

There sat Saleb, quietly, alone. Her outfit was a simple dress, a braid tied into her hair haphazardly. It was _a Ka'Zetta_ –a hair barrette usually worn by a bride on the day of her marriage. One that Hanala knew belonged to Veyare. One that one day Veyare would have passed along to her daughter, as her mother passed it on to her.

Smiling softly, Hanala entered the room, earning a look from the child. Hanala remained silent as she sat down next to the child. Her hands reached up, and much to Saleb's protesting squawk, she pulled the Ka'Zetta out. Not for long however, she pushed it back into her hair, getting it in just right, the side of her hair now pushed up to reveal the girls ear as it was meant to. Smiling Hanala leaned in and kissed the girl on the cheek.

The child flinched.

"Are you ready to go?" Hanala inquired as she stood back up, ignoring the feeling she was somehow failing the child so soon.

Turning back to her, she found Saleb staring into her lap, her fingers laced together, slowly she shook her head.

"I don't want to go," she spoke, softly looking into her lap as though she was going to be in a heap of trouble. "I'm not feeling well."

Still smiling to the child, Hanala pressed her hand to her forehead. There was no sign of being ill. She did not need to break out her omni-tool diagnostic programs to know the child was not up to the little visit.

Hanala bent down onto her knees.

"I'll let you in on a little secret…. neither do I." Hanala admitted coyly, doing her best to offer the girl a mischievous smile. "I've been sick all day as well. The thought of having to sit with a bunch of blabbermouths while you get to have all the fun is a nightmare. You think we should tell Grandma to go away? I could issue her an Admiralty order and have her banished to maintenance work in the air ducts…"

Saleb nodded her head with much more enthusiasm. She liked the plan. Hanala giggled slightly as she clasped her cheek, allowing her fingers to graze the side of her niece's face.

"Well, we cannot do that," Hanala continued, ignoring the pout being offered by the child. "See, we have obligations you and I. We've hidden away for quite some time now. All your little friends are going to wonder where you are. Don't you want to see them? Do you not want to play with them?"

Saleb shook her head, making Hanala bite her lip. She really did not want to force the child into doing something she didn't want to do. It felt to her that Mother was trying to push her granddaughter into a state of normalcy without understanding that Saleb was never going to know normal until much later in life. The loss of her parents was not going to be a vague memory. Blurry given her age, but it would remain to be a huge gaping hole in her life.

Perhaps this was the way Mother grieved, to push everyone around her back into doing things that were considered normal. Her good intentions were her own selfish desires to hide away from the fact that her favourite child and the daughter she wished she could have was dead and she was now stuck with… well… Hanala.

Hanala shook her pessimistic thoughts away. She instead stood back up; both hands now touching each side of Saleb's face.

"I think you and I owe them a little visit -just a little one," she said, amending her statement as Saleb pouted even harder. "We'll leave when you want to leave. Then we'll have fun. I'll get us some sweets, we'll watch vids and I'll tell funny and scary stories about that big scary monster for the rest of the day... but only if we go first… Deal?"

Saleb looked at her aunt, debating the answer.

"Alright… Please don't be too scary." Saleb said her tone sweetly nervous as she took her aunt's hand and pushed herself off the side of the bed.

Hanala nodded as she suppressed her laughter.

For the most part, the transition to a new guardian was going pretty well, all things considered. Saleb and she had been getting along well. A little quiet, but not bad, the real matter came to the other important personal relationship.

Joachim Hoch. Or as Saleb called him: _Big Scary Monster_. It would have been cute too if Joachim was still in a stable mental state. He did not take that innocent gaffe well. It took Hanala standing in front of the child to circumvent his annoyance before it could quickly escalate into something worse.

There was no doubt that Joachim Hoch was mentally ill at the moment. During the time Joachim was placed into isolation, he was placed under a suicide watch after the physician found him staring at his pistol a little too fixated on it. Hanala tried her best to delude herself into believing that the doctors were being overly cautious, but in the back of her mind, she knew better. She knew how devastating what had happened had been to him. She may not have mourned for Gerald for obvious reasons, but she did for Lene and the family. If she wanted to curl up into a ball and die when she thought about how they found the Langer's, she could never in a million years understand the amount of agony that was probably still tearing Joachim apart.

With his extreme guilt and grief plaguing him, he simply wanted nothing to do with Hanala's issues; neither could she really blame him for not thinking about her own losses on that day. It was expected that he wouldn't be willing to help shoulder them for her benefit. Not when he was this devastated. Not when he was this vulnerable. Not when he had been led to falsely believe that this had happened because of him.

When the smoke had cleared, the SS had destroyed everything, absolutely everything in his life. They did not stop at the Langer's, they torched the Langer's possessions in Germany and Austria, they burned down the home Hanala and Joachim shared outside of Berlin, they drained out all the accounts Joachim and the Hoch family had, even the Langer's just in case, leaving him broke. They had burned down his home in Potsdam; they even torched what was left of the Hoch home in Kiel and knocked over the gravestones that belonged to each member of his immediate family –His brothers and his parents. Apparently a fitting punishment for doing what was right.

He was now on the top of National Socialism's hit list; most likely higher than Gerd von Rundstedt and the other Generals, for what he agreed to do on behalf of the Admiralty. If the Quarians pulled their support and left, the military leadership would have to be spared by the Nation Socialists, especially when the rebelling military men were the best tacticians and field commanders the country had. Hoch, on the other hand, would meet a gruesome end. So it came as no surprise to her that Joachim ad turned into an unemotional rock since the fateful day. All things considered, it was probably for the best he was this way.

Now, just because she thought it was for the best, did not mean that it didn't bother her. It had happened when she approached him and told him she had filed the proper documents for a legal custody of Saleb. It was a decision she wanted to make with him. Although he had no legal standing in the eyes of the Quarians, she wanted him there at her side, being an uncle to the child. Perhaps it would help cool his bubbling anger from bursting onto the people who wronged him.

Instead of the desired effect, he instead took it as an ultimatum, to forget his rage and his desire for revenge and to settle down. It was something that he might have wanted not that long ago, but with the death of the Langer's a fresh wound, he could not accept the chance for relative peace she presented him.

Joachim all but ended things between them there and then; just as he had after the ultimatum and the news she had been deceiving him, he told her to not make contact with him. It was not the end. It was a pause in the relationship, the silence between the two of them lasting now for nearly three months.

When the doctors decided he was stable enough to end suicide watch, Joachim left the medical observation, took several Quarian firearms and headed back to Earth. There was no goodbye. He was simply gone.

She could not judge him. If she had no obligations, she would have done the exact same thing –Whether Joachim wanted her there or not. But Like Joachim had once been before her, she too was sick of death. So instead she would finish the final repairs of the Cruiser and prepare her people for joining humanity on Earth.

So for now they parted ways. Hanala trying her best to be a mother figure to a girl who didn't deserve to be an orphan; And Joachim, who was off doing Ancestors knows what… Most likely taking lives.

Finding her mother standing in the shuttle bay, Hanala shook her thoughts away from Joachim and back to the situation at hand. She loosened her grip on Saleb's hand, only to have Saleb tighten hers. Hanala took the hand once again and led them down to Mother.

With any luck, this would be her first step back into the world that had been shattered by Hanala's foolish rescue attempt. She could only hope that one day; this sweet little girl clutching her hand like she was one of Joachim's Hoch's saints would still care for her despite what happened that fateful February day.

Even if Saleb could find forgiveness for what happened, Hanala knew that nothing would ever wash away her newfound self-loathing...

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Climbing out of the back of the Opel Blitz Truck he was sitting in, Obersoldat Harold Braunbeck slicked back his hair as he pulled on his Stahlhelm. Slinging his Kar98k over his shoulder, he went to join the full company made mostly up of new recruits like him. This would be their first official assignment, attached to Generalleutnant Helmuth Weidling's 86th Infantry Division.

They were just outside of the city of Darmstadt. Like most of southwest Germany, it was primarily in the hands of the Wehrmacht, although that did not stop SS attacks and a civilian National Socialist terrorist group known as Werwolf. Werwolf was set up, trained, supplied and funded by both the Waffen-SS and, as rumour had it the Italians, who remained tersely allied with the new German government, but just as likely it would not be for long. With the Führer gone and Mussolini despising the treachery of the German high command, they were allies out of necessity now. If the Germans in Africa pulled out, Italy was doomed. If Italy fell, it provided the Anglo-Saxons and Americans a doorway into the Reich.

Just like he had said before, they were now allies of necessity.

 _ **"Company, fall in!"**_

The company fell into formation before the gathered officers, standing on the makeshift parade grounds. There appeared to be several leaders to the new arrivals. They broke apart, most of them heading to the front of the house where the crying was coming from, leaving behind the highest ranking man. A one eyed Oberst who stood silent as he inspected the company of mostly green soldiers. Hauptmann Horst Kleiner stepped forward to introduce the unit and exchange salutes with the officer.

As Kleiner stepped back to join his company, the Oberst stepped forward. His one eye narrowed as he looked over his men carefully. There was a flash of displeasure. He probably hadn't anticipated a unit whose median age was 19 years old. Boys compared to him. If he was angry, he did not say anything.

"Welcome to your first day in the 438th Mechanized Infantry, Kampfgruppe Hoch northern group," he greeted them, his voice raised now. "Our southern group is being pulled out of Algeria inside the week. We will be three thousand men strong by the time their deployment is completed-"

The screams intensified from inside the home. It sounded like bloody murder. The Oberst standing in front of them paid the interruption no mind. The company, on the other hand, sure did.

"I am Oberst Claus von Stauffenberg. I am this unit's commandant's second-in-command," the eye patch wearing colonel informed them over top of the strange noises. "Together we will be cleaning the Greater German Reich out of stubborn National Socialists and SS holdouts. This will not be an easy job. It appears that most of the Waffen-SS is now swinging in the direction of Himmler. If they come back we will have serious fight on our hands. One to which the Wehrmacht will not be able to send heavy support. We need all of our equipment situated on the front lines. As such we will most likely be reduced to obsolete armour to face our foe."

Kleiner raised his hand. Stauffenberg turned to face the Leutnant.

"Herr Stauffenberg? Forgive me for the interjection, but why are there two Oberst's for one Kampfgruppe?"

"We are Kampfgruppe in name only," was the Oberst's response. "It is simply a matter of legacy; we are, in actuality, a temporarily understrength regiment with two battalions instead of a standard three. I command Battalion 2, Waffen-SS Obersturmbannführer Joachim Peiper commands Battalion 1… And yes, twenty percent of Battalion 1 is made up of Waffen-SS troops that have broken off of the 1st SS Panzer Grenadier Division _Leibstandarte_. Speaking of which…."

Marching caught the company's attention. Some could not help it, they turned their heads to look, Harold included. Sure enough, marching down the road towards them came a small unit of what appeared to be Waffen-SS troops. They turned towards the new company and came to a halt at their side. The company commander, Hauptmann Werhner Cranz swore under his breath as he broke rank to confront the new arrivals.

The Hauptmann received no attention from the Waffen-SS, who's smug and arrogant attitudes remained despite the situation they were in. It took Oberst Von Stauffenberg clearing his throat to catch the Hauptmann's attention once again. Realizing it was futile to remain confrontational; Hauptmann Cranz left and marched back in front of his company.

"Joining you the rest of you will be seventy members of the 6th SS Mountain Division _Nord_. They were on leave during the uprising and decided that it was best if they serve the country and not the fallen Führer. They have taken an extraordinary risk to end their loyalties to the SS," Stauffenberg spoke, praising the new arrivals. "Together you will form the base for Battalion 3. Until your numbers are raised and leadership is found in an Oberstleutnant or even another Obersturmbannführer, for now Battalion 3 will serve as personal troops to Commandant Joachim Hoch."

There was a low murmuring from the new arrivals. They knew all about their former kameraden. Then again, who didn't after his astounding destruction of an elite panzer division with a Kampfgruppe. Of course, it probably wasn't him throttling Americans that made them nervous. It was what he did to the SS in Vienna back in February…

 _"God help us…"_ Someone in the Waffen-SS platoon said aloud to everyone. He wasn't just voicing their concern. Even the Heer soldiers shifted nervously.

"I realize that there will be a mistrust of anything related to the political army belonging to the late Führer." Stauffenberg pressed on, voicing their concerns before they started to simmer. "Our Commandant –a former Standartenführer believes that restitution can be made by those who thought service in that capacity was a benefit to the Fatherland. As you are Soldiers to the Provisional Government and to the Wehrmacht, I will expect you to welcome our repenting SS friends."

The screams once again caught their attention as a woman came running out of the house. She was utterly drenched in someone else's blood. Not caring, she collapsed before Stauffenberg and the one hundred and fifty new members of the Hoch regiment. The words she cried were almost completely unintelligible; all except for one statement.

 _ **"The Devil killed my husband!"**_ she screamed to her audience.

Harold shifted in place… He was officially freaked out now. Serving with the enemy? Screams from that home, and now this woman crying about the devil… What the hell was he getting into?

 _ **"Attention!"**_

The new members of the Regiment went from a relaxed state, to complete attention. There standing in the doorway was the giant commandant they now answered to. An axe in one hand, the other clutching what little hair was left on a man's head. Meeting Stauffenberg's expressionless stare, the Oberst stepped out of the doorway and moved towards Stauffenberg, who looked torn between revulsion and resignation.

Well… At least the Oberst wasn't above getting his own hands dirty.

Dropping the axe as he joined Stauffenberg, he ignored the screaming woman below him as he handed the bloody head to Stauffenberg. The face of his beheaded victim was contorted into a haunting display of terror. Holy shit…

"Take this to Berlin," Harold heard Commandant Hoch say over the woman's wild screaming, clearly the wife of the man he had beheaded. "See if they can make use of it."

Stauffenberg, now several shades paler nodded, and as though he had a handful of shit, he winced as went towards the trucks the new company had driven in. He did not notice the grins coming from some of the veterans of this unit. The grins vanished the moment Oberst Hoch cleared his throat.

"My name is Joachim Hoch and this is a boilerplate disclaimer to each of you newcomers," Hoch barked to the gathered men. "If I so much as hear or see sympathy shown to fervent followers of National Socialism, I will have you locked up or sent back to the front. Armed or not, the unrepentant National Socialist is our enemy. He and she will be treated as such."

He paused and turned his attention to the large Waffen SS platoon. The leader, what appeared to be an Obersturmführer, somehow stood up even straighter as the bearded former member of their organization lumbered towards them. His eyes travelled over their uniforms still decorated in Waffen-SS insignias.

Hoch was not impressed by the display. His pointer finger snapped out and shoved the Obersturmführer in the chest.

"I'm holding you to a higher standard than the rest, Obersturmführer," he warned the SS-Obersturmführer. "Most of the Wehrmacht believes that they are morally superior to us. It is as though they think that they do not have the same sort of blood on their hands like we have. They have no need to apologize. Prove yourself better than them to me and you will earn commendation from me."

 _"You bastard… You murderous, traitorous bastard!"_

The woman who was married to the dead man was back on her feet. No longer would she be a victim. Not when she had inched over to where Hoch had left his axe and grabbed it by the handle. With all her might she raised it over her head and bolted at him.

Calmly, Hoch rounded back on the woman. He did not attempt to disarm her. He dodged the swing of the axe and with all his might, drove his palm into the woman's nose. She screamed again as a sickening crunch could be heard by everyone gathered in her front yard. The pain was just too much for her; she lost her footing and collapsed.

Staring idly as he watched her clutch utterly shattered nose. Hoch reached into his pistol belt for his sidearm. As he retrieved the weapon, the woman held her hand out.

" _Please…"_ she weakly begged. _"Don't do this-"_

Without allowing her to finish, Hoch learned down and pressed the barrel against her temple. He shot her dead on the spot.

Not bothering to wipe the blood from the blowback off his face, Hoch stood up and holstered his weapon before turning back to face the absolutely shocked arrivals. He was utterly unmoved by the sight of what he had done.

"You will deal with them accordingly," he said as he gestured to the dead or dying woman sprawled out before them as an example to them all. "I expect that all of you will not show the enemy any quarter. Our assignment is to purge this element out of the Reich. Do I make myself clear?"

Hoch did not have to give that order twice.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Hauptsturmführer Skorzeny?"

Turning away from the window, Otto Skorzeny found an Obersturmführer standing in the doorway to his office, his cap resting on his arm as he waited for Skorzeny to invite him, which he did. He had all the markings of an intelligence agent. Cool and distant as he seemed to inspect his new superior officer carefully.

"Obersturmführer Adrian von Fölkersam reporting in as you requested," the younger man said as he dropped his transfer orders in front of Skorzeny, who sat down behind his desk and glanced over them.

Adrian von Fölkersam was a Saint Petersburg born Baltic German, his parents and family line were aristocrats with a long history of service to the Russian Empire. With the Bolshevik induced collapse, they fled back to the Fatherland and pronounced themselves permanent enemies of all forms of left wing thought -especially when it involved Bolshevism.

His background made him a prime candidate for daring sabotage operations behind the Russian lines meant to sow confusion and chaos, in Adrian's own case, to maximum effect. Skorzeny signed the transfer papers, officially assigning the Abwehr trained Waffen-SS commando to his new assignment. He looked and found Adrian still in a state of attention. A professional subordinate, well this was new.

He would need one. Especially with what Reichsführer Himmler had sanctioned. They were so close now all he needed was one final push to enact his plans. But it was coming. With nearly half of the Waffen-SS now in talks with Himmler, while the Wehrmacht was over extended across Russia, Occupied Europe and Africa, it was only a matter of time before the SS reconsolidated their power in the Fatherland.

All they needed was a leader.

"You can relax Obersturmführer, take a seat," Skorzeny ordered as he gestured to the seat at the front of his desk.

Obersturmführer Fölkersam obliged his new commanding officer, who dug into his desk and retrieved a bottle of schnapps and a couple of glasses for them. He paused and put one of the glasses away as the impassive Abwehr field operative held up his hand in polite refusal. Regardless, Skorzeny poured himself a drink and leaned back into his seat. One hand clutched his drink, the other opening the Obersturmführer's file on the table.

As testament to his character, most men tried to peak at their official records when they were in plain sight. Not Fölkersam. He continued to stare ahead in a state of attention, uninterested. Sipping his drink, Skorzeny sighed as he closed the folder.

"I would like for you to tell me about your service in the Brandenburgers," Skorzeny spoke finally, bringing his curiosity to the focus. "I would especially like to hear of your actions in Maikop."

For the first time, the impassive expression of the Waffen-SS Obersturmführer vanished. He smiled, only a slight, modest smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. In return, Skorzeny's own grin crinkled his mensur scar.

"Care for that drink now?" Skorzeny inquired, finally earning an ever widening smile and a slight nod.

As Skorzeny poured a second glass and slid it over to Fölkersam's reach, he crossed his fingers on the table as he watched the junior Waffen-SS man sip his drink conservatively. He was not in any hurry for the story to be told. This was just an interview. After a moment or so, Fölkersam set his glass down.

"Well Herr Skorzeny, it was August of last year," the Obersturmführer begun to recall for the hulking Austrian. "I and just fewer than sixty-five others of Baltic and Sudeten origin were ordered by our superior, Wilhelm Canaris to infiltrate behind enemy lines."

His words were so very cautious. Like he wasn't sure he should be discussing the matter. Skorzeny shot him a sympathetic smile.

"You penetrated farther into enemy territory than any other German unit at the time, am I correct?" Skorzeny inquired. Sipping his drink, Fölkersam nodded at the statement, he was not smug about it.

"You would be," he conceded, before he paused for a moment as he added. "We were ordered to seize and secure the Maikop oilfields… our intentions were to make sure little damage was sustained to them by the Soviet scorched earth policy when the Heer undoubtedly took the region. After obtaining NKVD uniforms from prisoners, and driving Soviet trucks, we infiltrated through the Soviet front lines and moved deep into hostile territory."

"Is it true you ran into a large group of Red Army deserters fleeing from the front?"

The Commando nodded.

"Yes, Herr Hauptsturmführer," Fölkersam once again confirmed. "They were a company or two in strength. I saw an opportunity to use them to our unit's advantage. We spooked the lot into returning to the Soviet cause through their typical methods. Threats, intimidation, but then offered an alternative. Service guaranteed their names kept out of the traitor books. It worked. We attached ourselves onto them and escorted them back behind the Soviet lines. We could almost move at will. No one suspected us as long as we kept ourselves looking busy and away from the roaming NKVD squads."

Skorzeny leaned into his seat; uniforms, trucks, manipulation of other people's fears in order to achieve an ends to a means. It was wonderful to see that covert actions were not a solely English specialty. He got a lot of flak from Churchill about how painfully inept Germans were when it came to cloak and dagger combat. Perhaps on his next visit to the imprisoned Englishman, he would present Adrian to him.

"That's impressive," He whistled, leaning further into his seat. "That's damn impressive."

For his part, Fölkersam did not seem too fazed with the praise.

"Thank you, Herr Skorzeny. Anyway, I was operating under false identity of a NKVD Major named Truchin based in Stalingrad; I explained my role in recovering the deserters to the Soviet commander in charge of Maikop's defences," he continued until he paused, a smile widening over his mouth as he added. "The stupid bastard not only believed me, but the next day gave him a personal tour of the city's defences."

Skorzeny burst out into laughter, his hands clapping together at the statement.

"We stayed there for a few days and by the 8th of August, the spearhead was only about 12 or so miles away," he continued. "Together my unit and I decided it was time to act. We used our grenades to simulate an artillery attack; the grenades knocked out the military communications centre for the city. After expending our grenades and waiting until the panic started to set in, I went to the Russian defenders and told them that a withdrawal was taking place. Since they knew I was NKVD and friendly with their commander, and finally lacking any communications to confirm the order, they began to evacuate Maikop quietly."

Taking a cigarette from Skorzeny, Adrian paused to wait for his cigarette to be lit before he took a long drag, and then exhaled.

"The spearhead entered Maikop without a shot being fired the next day. The only soldiers they found were us. We got lucky that Abwehr was watching the advance. We could have been thrown into a Prisoner of War camp."

As Adrian von Fölkersam fell silent, Skorzeny found himself finally finding a kindred spirit. Someone he could talk shop with, without being bogged down in listening to tedious topics Ernst Kaltenbrunner loved to discuss and imagine that Skorzeny had been a lawyer just like him. With any luck, he would convince the professional to see the benefit of being a friend to him.

"I already read the report, but I'd rather have had heard it straight from you," Skorzeny admitted to the Obersturmführer. "Impressive, truly impressive. And to think there is no recognition of your accomplishment."

At the mention of recognition, Adrian von Fölkersam actually looked upset, offended by the statement that Skorzeny made. Fölkersam slid his glass of schnapps to his superior.

"With all due respect, I did not sign onto my assignments for the glory, Herr Skorzeny. That is not the sort of soldier I am," the aristocratic commando spoke, his voice defensive. "I did it because my country asked me to. As the blade of the Abwehr, it must be a silent one; _always_ a silent one."

Skorzeny only offered him a grin.

"This isn't the Abwehr, they are now our enemy," he reminded the offended commando. "No my friend, you're in a different league now. I have brought you here for one reason and one reason only… First however you must swear your loyalty to me. This mission has been commissioned by the Reichsführer. What we do here is removed from the rest of the SS's knowledge."

Fölkersam inclined his head.

"I swear it, Herr Hauptsturmführer," he said immediately.

Skorzeny nodded, pushing himself out of the seat, he waited for Fölkersam to do the same. There were no words he could use to describe what the Obersturmführer needed to know. Not without proof presented first. He would need to see his prisoner… the quarian pilot Dalad'Voar vas Osalion, who was sitting in a holding cell now unknowingly since he captured him in February. He believed himself a stranded guest still.

Little did he know the role he would soon play in Skorzeny's machinations.

"Come with me," Skorzeny said to the newcomer as he opened the door. "I have someone who you need to meet."

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **Changes: Clean up, Angst extermination**

 **Welcome to the last part. I probably won't release this story as fast as I did Last Days. At 320,000 words, it's three times the size of the last story. Lots of fat trimming will happen, but it's going to be a long one regardless.**


	2. Recall

**Chapter Two: Recall**

 **...**

 _President Roosevelt,_

 _I write to you in the hopes of rekindling our brief acquaintance from such a long time ago. It feels like eons ago, and under much friendlier circumstances, but that friendliness is the reason I appeal to you now. I can only pray that once this letter finds your eyes, you will understand why I write this._

 _Since the fall of the National Socialist government, I have been thinking a lot about this friendly relationship we had. From the fires of the last war, it seemed so likely that the United States and Germany could become friends. But with your Depression, and the rise of Nazism, such friendship has lost its way. Today we have a new opportunity to bring about another chance at friendship. One that is feasible, if together we take certain steps towards fostering this new vision of peace between us._

 _It has been decided by the General Staff of the Wehrmacht that Germany and her people are not ready for democracy in any form. They consider it too much of a risk. As such, they approached my Father and I to retain the old seat of power, to bring forth the resumption of the Kaiser. My Father has agreed, but on one stipulation, that it will be I who resumes head of the line. He feels he is too old and set in his ways to serve the position._

 _Privately he has told me that my education in the United States could benefit the country. I happen to agree with him. Germany made a mistake in her short experiment with democracy, and as such a small cadre of military men use it as an excuse to banish such a noble concept. It is my intention to return Germany to a state of democratic control once again. This time however, following in the English system. Parliamentary politics appear to be better suited for the country once I assume the role of Head of State._

 _There is not much time left for a friendship to be formed. The Wehrmacht leadership is dedicated to and distracted by hunting down and eradicating the National Socialist threats in the country. When they are done, l fear they will battle even fiercer against the external adversary. They have no restraints and the thing that keeps me up at night is the thought of my Generals simply using me as a puppet, like my grandfather before me. This I can assure you will not be the fate that shall befall me without a fight. I will fight the Prussian military aristocracy in charge of the Wehrmacht tooth and nail until they fall underneath my control._

 _I am not delusional enough to think that this one letter will convince you to tell your Generals to pull back. In these dark times, one can only hope that there can be enough civilized discourse left in this world to allow two men on opposite sides of the war to at the very least be able to exchange private letters. I will send you only this one letter. If you do not reply, I will not continue my correspondence. However, it is my sincerest wish that you will have the personal conviction to pick up a pen and reply in turn. Done right, there could be much we could discuss with one another._

 _With Respect,_

 _Crown Prince Louis Ferdinand of House Hohenzollern_

"Well, I wasn't expecting to read this when I woke this morning, but here it is. Would you have any thoughts about this letter, Bill?"

Head of the Office of Strategic Services William J. Donovan turned back to the President, sitting behind the Hoover desk, his fingers laced together, his head bowed as though in prayer, though that was not the case. It was just the way Roosevelt privately digested the letter laying idly on the desk before him. It was odd, but in these times, it was not a surprise.

How all sectors of Allied intelligence had missed what had happened was baffling. The coup in itself was an odd one. Stavka – Soviet High Command - in a rare display of openness had approached their liaison to the United States Harry Hopkins and asked why the two warring factions hadn't split up the Eastern frontline into civil war. The Soviets, who were listening intently to the reports, would be in for a disappointment. As random as the uprooting of the Nazis and the assassination of Adolf Hitler had been, neither the SS nor the Wehrmacht were willing to let the east descend into chaos. There they continued to work in cohesion it seemed.

The English had gone into damage mode. To them this was a repeat of the Kaiser being turned into a figurehead for Hindenburg and Ludendorff's benefit, but that looked tame in comparison. With German High Command in charge of the country and no word if they were creating a civilian government at this time, all the English could see now was Germany going from bureaucratically inefficient to a military hierarchy that made all the rules and offered only two choices 'do' or 'die'.

Worse still was that the English had gone dead silent. They did not answer calls from anyone, not even from the President, who was steadily becoming more and more annoyed trying to get in contact with his counterpart. The only one across the pond with ears on the situation was George Marshall and he was disbarred from sitting in on Churchill's conference about what was happening. The Brits were lucky as hell that Marshall could behave himself. Six feet tall and built like a gorilla, Marshall could probably knock the door off the frame and throttle most of the English into submission.

"This could be a cry of help from an inexperienced leader being thrust to head of a militarist government," Donovan spoke finally to the president, adding. "His fears are genuine, you know."

His words caught the President's attention. He looked up and allowed a ghost of a smile for his head of the OSS.

"So… it's still clear that the Germans have no intention on ending this war. Not yet at least," President Roosevelt finally spoke, unlacing his fingers. "I will be frank with you, Bill, the very thought of making peace at a table filled with smug east Prussian Junkers is nauseating. It's not an experience which I want to endure."

The President sighed as he appeared top rake through his memories of the young Prince he was relatively friendly with once upon a time.

"You know… yes, I remember Louis now," he spoke rather fondly, all things considered. "He was a nice enough fellow when I met him. Fluent in English, he loved art, culture and was studying to become an engineer before the family was recalled back to Germany. He wasn't even next in line of succession until his brother was killed in France during the invasion. It allowed him to branch out from the family expectations. He's certainly different than his grandfather, that's for sure. But still, he is propping up a system that I cannot tolerate."

Nodding in understanding, William stood up from his seat at the couch and took the seat in front of the President's desk. Donovan felt the exact same. The concept of making peace with morally dubious Field Marshals and Generals had been unthinkable a year ago. These men had nearly as much blood on their hands as the Nazi Party did; the only thing separating them that they were realist opportunists who overthrew their government over extremely vague reasons.

"Why shouldn't we be the ones to approach them, sir?" Donovan spoke during Roosevelt's lapse. "It could be a good first step at fostering good will with the General Staff. They were very half hearted about going to war with us. Their quarrel was always meant for the east."

"And tell me, how can you be so sure?"

The question, while brisk and to the point was a good one. Thankfully Bill had been looking into the German chain of command since April of last year. He had a little bit of understanding to their motives. "If I may be frank Mister President, I'm afraid you have been getting your briefings from men with a pathological hatred of Germans in Germany, and not just the Nazi variety."

His answer must have stunned the President. President Roosevelt simply sat there, looking at Donovan like he had just confessed some horrible secret. It was not the case. Anti-German sentiment in the White House, Senate and Congress was at an all-time irrational high.

"I believe that the Junker class has finally seen reason and will attempt to negotiate with us if we swallow our own pride long enough to open a dialogue with them," Donovan pressed on. "To simply ignore current events any further would be madness. Germany is a wholly different animal now. They've cut the fat from themselves. The Nazis themselves were some of our best allies, in that Hitler restricted the operational freedoms of the High Command. With German High Command now officially at the top of the totem pole, they now call the shots, they control the direction of the war industry and with Goebbels total war speech now being enforced it could make the war that much more fana… ah… disciplined."

William nearly allowed the word fanatical to be dropped. It was a completely unwise word to use. He considered it a stupid move to call an enemy fanatical. It was a lazy copout that undercut the enemy as some sort of stupid tool compared to their adversary. The enemy always had to be held with respect and not dismissed as lunatics, or it would come back and bite them on their ass.

"What do you suggest then?" the President inquired.

Oh. Donovan knew just where to start.

"First I suggest we bury any and all plan being design by Henry Morgenthau," Donovan stated straight away, taking the seat on the couch as offered by the President. "If the Germans get so much as a wind of his ramblings about breaking Germany up into farmland, the conflict between the SS and the Wehrmacht will cease. They will work together to make sure we pay for this concept even being thought by someone high in this administration."

Roosevelt didn't interject. William took it as a sign to continue.

"Next up, we have a highly placed commander in the field that views this campaign as a campaign against evil in itself. Well that may be, but Eisenhower is overly sanctimonious about this war," Donovan pressed on, wishing he could put his opinion about Eisenhower in nicer terms, but failing to find the right words. "If Eisenhower cannot be persuaded to tone back his rhetoric about a 'Great Crusade', it might be time that you replace him with George Marshall. Finally, we need to think more like the English –more… well... for lack of a better word… deviously."

President Roosevelt arched an eyebrow.

" _Deviously_?" he repeated, his tone amused by the OSS chief. William could only nod.

"Yes sir," confirmed the head of the Office of Strategic Services. "We need to think a little longer down the line. The Brits have already seen that there are two great threats to world peace. One that we battle against, the other we have aligned ourselves with. The Nazis attacked the west out of obligation because the English and French activated their alliance with Poland. Just as Hitler had to activate his alliance to Japan, the whole reason we got into the war in the first place. With certain commanders in high places fighting the Germans, they have taken the war and personalized it into a battle of good and evil. With the Wehrmacht battling the National Socialists, they now no longer have that excuse."

"So," started Roosevelt, leaning back into his wheelchair. "Your logic is that if we withdraw support from the west, and focus on the Japanese, our withdrawal forces the English to follow suit. The war in the west ends and it allows the Germans to put full focus on the Soviets. Then we allow the National Socialists… excuse me, the Militarists and Communists, to kill each other?"

As soon as William nodded his head, Roosevelt started to chuckle at what he was being presented. Not out of disdain, but in an appreciation for what was being suggested.

"Donovan I like you. You think about things I cannot dare to think about," Roosevelt spoke as he rolled his wheelchair around the desk, making the head of the OSS stand up from his seat in natural instinct. Waiting for him to sit back down, the President added. "how would it look if the world's most powerful nation cut its losses and ran from tyranny of National Socialism and at the same time, allowed the revival of Prussian Militarism, which neither has a place in the world. We are trying to bring peace for all. Not just for us, but for them."

William nodded, the President wasn't wrong about what he was saying. Militarism and dictatorships should be relics of a less civilized time, and yes, it would say something if Roosevelt were to back down from the fight for European liberty from fascism. William couldn't imagine what struggle it must have been for a leader to have to traverse the messy business that was a war. The thing was, as right as he might have been; he was still influenced by the propaganda machine like most men in politics.

In war, one could not expect to have much sympathy when it came to the enemy. But to act blindly and not empathize with the enemy was just as foolish.

"Sir I mean no disrespect, but we have to face a truth here," William spoke up, his tone dire. "This war isn't simple for us to fight anymore. This is no longer a battle against an inexcusably criminal regime, but now against a nation dominated by the military. German High Command is in charge of an entire nation. They don't care about anything but waging war and they will want to win at any cost. To them it's essential that they win at any cost. They could arm millions of anti-communists in Russia and the Ukraine-SSR to fight the Soviets, they could throw every German male from 14 to 70 into combat against us if they so choose and send the women to work like we are doing. Hell Mr. President, they could start sending the excess women to battle as well."

Donovan paused as he allowed the President to digest his hypothesis into the thought process of the German High Command. Taking several deep inhales and exhales, he bit his lip as he added.

"My question is: Are you prepared to enact an even larger draft?" Donovan asked his boss. "Are you prepared to bleed dry the youth of the nation for a war against an enemy that, while declared war on us first, hasn't physically attacked the United States of America-"

President Roosevelt held up his hand.

"Would we win the war if we continue?" the President cut him off.

Donovan leaned into his seat, unable to meet the eyes of the President, who was looking at him in a way a father would if his son had done something dreadful.

"Most likely…" Donovan replied. "Yes, if we go full tilt on them, yes we could put them down. But would it be worth destroying half of Europe to go after a regime that no longer exists? Because that is what will likely happen if we assault mainland Europe; I can almost guarantee it. I… I don't want to turn Western Europe into rubble. We're playing a game against an enemy that likely doesn't to play it anymore then I do. It's a game that's going to kill a lot of people…"

Donovan exhaled, pushing his hands through his thinning hair.

"If may add, sir, I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me," Donovan started back up, rubbing his neck nervously as Roosevelt continued to smile at him quizzically. "Like you said, I need to say these sorts of things because someone has to. Whatever you choose, I'll stand behind you, Mr. President. Because you are right, these men shouldn't be in charge of mainland Europe. I just need to know that all avenues are explored before we commit to turning Germany and Western Europe as a whole into rubble."

Donovan fell silent and stared into his lap. He could hear wheels roll towards him, then a hand falling onto his shoulder.

"I know, Bill. That's why I agreed to your nomination to your position," the President comforted him. "You're a straight shooter, and I need you to be this voice of realism as well as a strong understanding of restraint... for Christ sake. I'm getting memos on concept weapons that should not ever exist. Yesterday I find out that our boys and the Canadians are looking into ricin laced cluster bombs! What the hell is that about?"

The Intelligence chief frowned.

"I'll look into it, sir," he assured the boss. "Tell them to scrap the plan?"

Roosevelt grunted rather crudely as he shrugged. Pushing his wheelchair over to the couch, the President pulled himself out of the wheelchair and settled into the more comfortable seating. He leaned forward and pulled a case filled with cigarettes from off the table. He looked to Donovan, standing still in front of his desk and gestured for him to join him.

Donovan obliged and sat on the couch opposite to him, sitting patiently with his hands in his lap as he waited for the president to finish lighting up his cigarette.

"Bill, I made my commitments… so no… I can't stop the war. Not on dime. Not just because you think its best," the President said in between his inhales. His tone sounded almost resigned. "Nor can I be the one to open the line of communication for an armistice without informing my colleague across the pond. It would look bad. Now…If the Germans were the ones to approach us, it might be different. How could we convince them of good will without it looking like we want to end the war?"

Donovan perked right up.

"Ways?" William repeated the President's words, now almost hopeful that he had gotten through to him. "Well, a personal message of goodwill to Rundstedt and whoever is in charge of the country as soon as possible; not a request for peace, just an acknowledgement of their feat, just so we can open the possibility of a dialogue to them. You could quietly scale back bombing raids over Germany; we are now dangerously approaching what the Luftwaffe did to London and Rotterdam. Any further and we're wandering into war crimes territory. Scale back American contributions to the European campaign under the guise of transferring to the Pacific. There's a multitude of ways to get the German's attention."

He paused.

"And the Prince?" he asked the obvious. "Will you respond, sir?"

Roosevelt looked to the desk he had left the letter on. Slowly he nodded.

"I should think a personal letter would suffice," the President decided as he tapped ashes into a tray. "Receptive of course, but reserved, it would be wise not to discuss the war in great length."

William Donovan thought it was an excellent idea.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _ **"ROCKET ARTILLERY! TAKE COVER!"**_

The moaning of Nebelwerfer rockets raining down on them made Oberst Joachim Hoch drop to the ground behind his command Hanomag. Thankfully the salvo hit just off from Joachim's staging ground. Still, it was too close for comfort. How the SS got their hands on Nebelwerfer rocket launchers and operators was a mystery he planned on solving as soon as he got his artillery units deployed to return a counter barrage.

"We're being shelled, Generalleutnant," he shouted through the transmitter as he battled the noise of the blasts. "Requesting to deploy my artillery units to return fire!"

 _"Artillery is out of the question, Hoch! This is not the front, this is Darmstadt!"_

Ignoring the urge to join the heavy fighting erupting in the outskirts of Darmstadt, Joachim Hoch gripped the handle of his phone as he wondered to himself why Weidling had ordered him to join in on the attack on Darmstadt. The city was a hotbed for National Socialist activity, but of little strategic importance in the long run. The only militarily valuable target was the Merck chemical factory. It was better to spare the troops needless bloodshed.

He could only be left with the belief that this was to be one of the staging grounds for the assault on Frankfurt, the next step towards driving northeast to Berlin. With much of the ancestral home of National Socialism conquered; Nuremberg, Munich and the rest of Bavaria, the National Socialists had fled to reinforce control of the North of the Reich even as the Prussians were cleaning out the Bavarian countryside, much to their consternation.

 _"Hoch, do you understand my directive?"_ the Generalleutnant commanded. _"There will be no unnecessary destruction of property during our liberation of Darmstadt. Are we clear?"_

Helmuth Weidling. He was a good enough field commander, but his drawback was apparently in not understanding that the only way the Party and the SS would give up was through absolute warfare, an unprecedented civil war that made all other civil wars across the world and history look tame by comparison. There could not be any compromise or weakness in the Wehrmacht's resolve. Not when they were doing battle against emotionless killers.

That was the problem with Wehrmacht men. They underestimated the sheer irrational, yet utterly zealot will the Allgemeine-SS had for holding onto what dwindling power they had left. Now with Werwolf, an SS sponsored civilian terrorist group doing battle against them like partisans in Russia, it made the task all the more important to totally demoralize the Nazis. If it meant Darmstadt was turned into smouldering ruins, so be it.

"So you would sooner save a few buildings and send in my men without fire support then deal with the enemy appropriately?" Hoch demanded to know.

He shouldn't have said that aloud. Weidling clearly was having a bad day as well.

 _"We have explicit orders to refrain from damaging the infrastructure of the Reich,"_ the General warned the Oberst. _"If these orders go for me, then they go double for you. We have enough problems with English and American bombing raids. I do not want our troubles to include us as well. This isn't the Waffen-SS. You're in the business of professional soldiering now. You will obey what I_ _ **say**_ _!"_

Hoch, however, was not willing to stand for this bullshit. General or not, this was a stupid order to follow. And stupid orders got good men killed.

"You withhold my heavy armour support and now you take away my guns? This is madness!" Hoch cursed at the general. "You'll be sending my men to a slaughter."

 _ **"MY ORDERS STAND, OBERST."**_

Weidling sudden eruption startled the Oberst's anger into a state of silence. He knew he would get no further with the General. Any further debate was pointless now. He would have to fight the enemy without any of his advantages. This was unbelievable.

"Yeah, Herr Generalleutnant… understood…" the seething ex-Nazi muttered, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against the side of the half-track. As soon as the line disconnected, Joachim opened his eyes.

" _ **FUCK**_!" he screamed as he dropped the radio communication device and kicked the tracks of his command Hanomag.

He ignored the throbbing now pulsing in his foot, he also ignored the gathering of officers that had appeared from out of the woodwork the moment they heard their commandant scream an obscenity. He ignored them as they surrounded him. With a low growl, he squatted against the armoured halftrack, his hand running through his heavy beard as he continued to mutter angry words while he thought about his next moves.

He was being told to fight with one hand behind his back. No German soldier in the history of the unified state had ever been told to fight with restraint. The General issued his order, but he gave his ground commanders great freedoms to accomplish his goals. It was the reason the Razing of Rotterdam and the so called 'Rape of Belgium' happened in the last war. Sure, it gave bad name to the Heer, but it worked and to a German soldier, so long as it worked, damn his reputation.

Being told that not to use heavier panzers in city fight, that much he could understand. There was logic to not send them into urban combat, especially since the enemy had limited armour and that most heavy armour was to be sent to the front and prepared for the coming offensive against the Soviets, but no high explosive round firing assault guns? No field artillery, not even the Luftwaffe? He signed onto the Wehrmacht to have access to these things. He could have gone the route of a private assassin if he wanted to and just spent the rest of the civil war killing one National Socialist at a time, but no, duty told him to fight for the country while he waged his vendetta.

"Herr Hoch?"

The query came from his second, Claus von Stauffenberg, his arms crossed behind his back as he looked on his commandant's dishevelled appearance most distastefully. He was older then Hoch and as such, probably felt answering to a man a decade younger than him as unbecoming. Well fuck the one eyed count. According to the future Kaiser, they were now the best of friends.

"Wielding has issued the order that we're not allowed to operate anything more powerful than Panzer III's," he spoke finally to the men gathered around him, unable to meet their eyes. "Artillery support is reduced to what shitty little mortars we can get out hands on. Air support is non-existent. We go into Darmstadt exposed. Tell the men to take it nice and slow - building by building - if Generalleutnant Weidling is going to make me conserve my firepower and use restraint, then we're going to go about retaking the city like the war of 1914."

The gathering muttered lowly as they absorbed the news.

"With all due respect, we were at least allowed to have artillery fire support back then."

Hoch inwardly growled as his new Panzer leader of the Hoch Regiment, Major Thomas Beck's sardonic comment earned the laughter of the men. Ignoring their chuckling; Hoch stood back up and went around to the back of the Hanomag to fetch the newest addition to Joachim's entourage. Sticking his head into the back of the halftrack, he clapped his hands together and whistled.

"Blondi, come!" Hoch called out.

At the sound of her name being called by her new master, the German Shepherd , sprawled out on the floor of the armoured vehicle perked right up and bounded out of the Hanomag to join her new master's side. Patting her head idly, Joachim pulled her leash off the door of the halftrack and latched it onto her collar.

Yes. Joachim Hoch was now in possession of Adolf Hitler's pride and joy of the animal kingdom: His dog, Blondi.

Heinz Guderian had found her roaming the ruins of the Kehlsteinhaus and took her in. For some reason or another, Guderian and Zorah presented him the dog when he'd returned to Earth so he could receive his commission into the Wehrmacht. They were planning on giving her back to the Führer, when the quarian captain told them that no animals were allowed on any other ship then the vessels dedicated to livestock slaughter. When asked how they could have meats to consume, because Joachim knew that Hanala wasn't a vegetarian, the simple answer was a technique called cloning. Create through blood samples, grow, kill, consume, repeat...

Cloning: It was fucking horrifying to hear in Hoch's opinion.

He had never before owned a pet before. His Mother was very sensible when it came to any request he had for animal companions. Like everything he had to say in that time period, she simply ignored his requests. It was expected when it came to feeding a child with limited income coming into the home in the postwar, post father era. By the time he was ten, he had stopped caring about such things. So when Guderian presented the Shepherd to him, beaten up and mangy from the week long siege laid on Berchtesgaden and the Kehlsteinhaus. Hoch took pity and accepted her in into his life.

His fingers scratching behind Blondi's ears, he looked up to his officers, the junior ones understanding just where this animal came from had their mouths open. The moment he stood up straight, the men went back into a state of attention.

"We move out in the hour," he finally issued the order to them. "Get the men organized and double up on grenades and ammunition."

The company commanders dismissed themselves as Hoch turned his attention back to Blondi. Together, Hoch and his new dog walked away from the rest of the leadership still lingering as they discussed the details of the operation that Joachim had no desire to listen to. It wasn't long until he found himself being followed by Oberst Stauffenberg and Major Beck.

He didn't want to do this anymore. Fight in large scale battles like this. He'd came back to Earth with the sole purpose of waging war against individuals the Wehrmacht identified as criminals. Unfortunately, fighting a war on two fronts and needing to occupy volatile countries like France, Norway and Yugoslavia meant a serious drain on the number of competent officers available, coupled with the need for increasing numbers of skilled field commanders to fight the ever growing National Socialist threat, meant that his hunt for the worse members of the party would be put on hold while they mostly ran free without him pursuing them.

"It's not like the SS here have better equipment then us, Herr Commandant," Stauffenberg spoke, his hands behind his back as he followed his Commander and dog setting the pace. "If anything we have the edge on them in every way. I doubt that they have much in the way of armour and artillery."

Major Beck was thankfully unmoved by Stauffenberg's assessment.

"With all due respect, Herr Oberst, that's what they're counting on," the Major spoke respectfully to the one eyed man. "They expect us to show restraint to a foe in our own country. We cannot afford to give them that safe assumption that we'll be easy on them in the Fatherland."

Passing by a column of idle Panthers, Joachim paused and watched as the crews sat around their vehicles, smoking and playing cards. They were being given the battle off thanks to Weidling's command about involving medium panzers in urban combat. The sight of them lounging while the infantry were preparing for attack left Hoch fuming with rage.

Instead of continuing down the firing line, Hoch and Blondi veered, much to his two highest ranking subordinates' surprise. He marched down towards the lounging panzer crews, his eyes trained on what appeared to be the highest ranking man there. It was a Hauptmann, sipping from a glass bottle that looked suspiciously like alcohol.

The moment the Panther men noticed Hoch approaching them, they shot from their relaxed state in to strict attention. There was still a smile on the Hauptmann's face. It vanished in an instant as Hoch swung his hand back and backhanded the older man so hard that he stumbled in place. Glaring contemptuously at the Hauptmann, Hoch turned back to the Panzer men.

 _ **"GET IN YOUR FUCKING PANZERS, YOU LAYABOUTS!"**_ He screamed at them with furious anger.

He did not need to repeat himself, Hoch turned back to Beck, who was at attention. These were his men Hoch was furious with. He was lucky the unstable Oberst hadn't smacked him around yet.

"Major Beck, I want that column of upgraded Panzer III's broken up and placed into the attack; and since the Sturmgeschütz III is built on the chassis of a Panzer III, they go in as well," he ordered, pointing out to the scrambling Panther crews as they ran their checks on their Panzers. "I want all armour piercing shells to be replaced with high explosive rounds for kicking down any strongholds. You will tell those panzer men to be liberal with their fire. You're dismissed."

Watching as Beck snapped out an affirmative and a salute, then ran down to talk with the Panther crews scrambling into their Panzers, Hoch turned back to Stauffenberg, who looked offended by what Hoch was doing. Disobeying orders from a direct superior officer was a serious indictment made by Hoch about Helmuth Weidling's operational ability.

"I do not let advantages slip by, I do not play politics Stauffenberg, I do not have a reputation to lose, I do not care if I knock down a few buildings and I certainly do not care about the civilians still holed up in that city," Hoch rumbled, his eyes narrowed at the look of clear protest being offered by the minor aristocrat soldier. "We have been blasting warnings to the civilians for weeks now over the radios about staying in cities when the Wehrmacht shows up. It's their prerogative if they want to stick around during the attack. My conscience is clear and so too should yours."

Mushing Blondi, Hoch and his new pet left, leaving Stauffenberg annoyed by the flagrant disrespect for Weidling's orders. Annoyed and utterly disgusted by the lack of humanity in this bastard.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Hanala gave a silent scream as she thought about ending her life.

Although she would never do something like that, it did not hurt to think about all the ways she could do it right here, right now. It was a welcomed relief from listening to a pack of bored mothers talk unceasingly about their children from the moment Hanala said hello to them. Was this what motherhood was? Cackling laughter about stupid things their children did while they wasted their youth?

Now, she was certain they were nice and the best possible examples of parenting to learn from while she was stuck here, but that did not entitle them to blast out what remained of her hearing for the purpose of talking about inane things such as bedtime disobedience.

Quietly she wondered how Joachim was doing. This was day six of his attack on Darmstadt. Apparently he had ignored orders and sent his Panzers in armed with high explosives and ill intent. Darmstadt would be levelled by the time he was done with that town, and he would undoubtedly get in trouble for it. Something he would not give a shit about if she knew Joachim at all.

Hanala kind of wished she was down there with him. The thing was most of her sensibility had dissuaded her from any further participation in conventional warfare. That was not to say she was growing soft. She just did not like the thought of fighting in a battle with so many people there trying to kill her.

"Admiral… Hanala, are you there?"

Hanala looked away from where Saleb was playing and turned back to find the pack of mothers all staring at her. The woman asking the question was Kaiah'Voss vas Eduni. She was the Eduni's Captain, a civilian vessel. A member of the Conclave, she must have looked onto Hanala's title dubiously as she was not elected to her position. Still, at least she could remain civil about it.

She was also best friends with Veyare, which meant that Hanala was under serious scrutiny when it came to raising Saleb. It had even been suggested by several rumours that Kaiah had been pushing Mother to be Saleb's guardian just before Hanala had come out of her shock and volunteered herself to be Saleb's caretaker.

If it was true, then Hanala would keep an eye on her a little more carefully.

"I was just admiring how adjusted Saleb is… all things considered," said Kaiah, smiling to Hanala as she gestured to Saleb. "You must be doing a wonderful job."

Hanala allowed a flash of a smile to be expressed as she looked to Saleb, watching Malu'Sau - one of the girls - laugh and show something on her datapad to Saleb. To her own credit, Saleb managed to go through the motions - smile and chuckle - at whatever they were looking at. It was probably not genuine emotions she was feeling, but it was nice to hear regardless.

"I am just stumbling through this the best I can," Hanala returned. "Things will never be normal for her ever again. We'll just have to create a new normal…"

Hanala trailed off as the doors to the recreation room opened and in marched two stern looking military personnel stepped into the room. Both of them scanned the activity of the children until they froze and took notice of the Admiral sitting in the room, staring right back at them.

Hanala sighed and stood up. She would figure out what this was about. The guards, women a little younger looking, both of them taller than herself snapped to attention as Hanala stood from her seat with the mothers and approached them to find an answer for their presence here.

"Admiral Jarva, our apologies for intruding," the woman spoke as she handed what appeared to be a datapad containing her orders for the day. "Admiral Zorah issued a directive to ease on the security restrictions on the Goebbels family. If we knew this recreational centre was busy…"

Hanala looked up from the datapad and handed it back to the guard. Her eyes fell on the third woman standing behind the two guards. She was a stern looking human. It was Magda Goebbels. It was the woman that Joachim saved that fateful morning when he captured Hitler. Behind her were her children, just as dead silent as their mother.

Hanala frowned as she took in her appearance. She wore a pink designer dress that… that Lene had bought for her when she was finally ready to blend into human life. The side of her face looked as though they were in the final stages of some sort of microsurgery; her own eyes were cast on the other mothers dealing with their unruly children distastefully before looking away as though the unrepentant Nazi mother thought she would catch a disease from them. To a German mother like Magda, such a sight that was children running wild must have been absolutely revolting.

This reaction to what she perceived as liberal parenting was not surprising to Hanala as she looked on Magda's children. The children she had were lined up almost as disciplined as soldiers. Like their mother, their expressions were empty and extremely guarded about the presence of alien children before them. They were somewhat…well… creepy.

Sighing, Hanala turned back to the two guards.

"No need to worry, Frau Goebbels can stay," the Admiral told them. "Go and take a break, I'll keep an eye on her."

Nodding, the guards backed away from Magda Goebbels, who continued to stare off as though the collection of mothers and children were invisible. With only one more moment of hesitation and nothing to say to her new handler, Magda shoved by Hanala and wandered towards the farthest seat she could find in the recreational centre as far away as she could possibly be from the dozen staring mothers. It was clear to Hanala that Magda and she were not much different in at least one sense. They were only there out of obligation to children.

Behind her, her six children followed in silence, almost as though they were in military drill. Still she paid no attention to the flock of quarian mothers who were still watching her every move suspiciously. All had heard about humans, but this was the first time that any of them had seen one in person. So far, their impression was not a good one by the way Magda was acting.

Sighing, Hanala closed the sliding down and went to go and join the rest of Saleb's friend's mothers, all of them still utterly transfixed by the apathetic human sitting in the room far away from them.

"They look so much like us… except… more… _primitive_ …" said Kaiah, her head tilted as she inspected the woman. "They must have terrible night vision."

Hanala smiled privately as she remembered finding Joachim sprawled on the ground cursing and rubbing his head when he had gone to get some water in the middle of the night. Yes, their night vision was definitely subpar to that of a quarian.

"And you're in a relationship with one of them?"

Hanala did not reply to the question being asked by one of the mother's -Bauvari'Nore vas Eduni, who was the eldest mother of them all. Hanala simply shuffled her feet as she tried to smile faintly as she tried to ignore the sudden shift in focus back to Hanala the moment they realized.

"It's… complicated…" Hanala sighed, looking at her lap instead of the stares she was receiving. "We can't get married, he legally can't help play guardian to Saleb, we can't really be seen in public together on Earth, nor the fleet, and that's not including recent events…"

Bauvari appeared unmoved by the challenges facing Hanala's private life.

"It is for the best that Saleb is without a human in her life in a position of guardianship," the mother sighed, looking away from Hanala. "The last thing you want her to be doing is to be influenced by these… creatures. I doubt a mixed family… let alone a human family would be a good environment for a child."

Hanala ignored the urge to smash in the stupidly smug expression written on Bauvari'Nore's face, let alone the chuckling coming from the others, whether in concurrence, or mocking, she could not tell. Had she continued to hold the title of cool aunt rather than guardian, she would have gladly gone to town on all of them physically and verbally.

Looking away, she focused back on Magda, who was retrieving what appeared to be a pack of cigarettes and her lighter. Without understanding that the cigarette smoke that she wanted to inhale was toxic to her children and potentially allergenic inducing in the little quarian lungs that might inhale it. That was all it took to motivate her to stand up and nearly march to Magda.

Magda did not look up as Hanala stopped in front of her and cleared her throat loudly.

"Frau Goebbels… would you care to join us?" Hanala spoke to the former First Lady of the Reich, smiling down on the woman. She even used the German she was learning and not the translation device as a small measure of comfort for the woman.

It went unnoticed, or more likely, unacknowledged.

Magda Goebbels did not reply to the query being asked, she instead took a drag of her cigarette. Still she did not care that the second hand smoke was not only poisoning her children, but potentially harming the quarian children as well. Magda crossed one leg over the other and tapped the ashes to the floor. Her eyes darted to her children, who like drones wandered together away from the two of them to inspect the large room.

Hanala looked away and focused on Saleb, who was staring at the children wearily. Her eyes turned back to her aunt. Hanala smiled slightly and nodded. It was that was needed to encourage her. Saleb stood up from her group of chattering friends and wandered to the humans. For the first time, Magda blinked, her eyes following Saleb like a bird-of-prey as she approached one of the girls; one that was about her own age.

The two eldest girls were dead eyed, like they had seen a great horror and were not interested in interacting with the little quarian girl staring at them. The other four seems a little more receptive. The only boy, clutching his youngest sister's hand tightly, looked back to his Mother as though waiting for an order that never came. Still Magda remained silent. Taking it as a sign, the boy , the youngest sister and another girl, who looked shy stepped back and remained at their eldest sister's side.

It left Saleb with only one of the Goebbels children, a girl about Saleb's age who was smiling happily to the quarian girl. Saleb offered a smile back and wordlessly gestured the human child to join her, which she happily did. She did not as much as look back for orders from her mother. The rebel child of the Goebbels children; Hanala smiled slightly.

Hanala turned back to the woman still smoking.

"For the sake of the children, human and quarian could you stub that out?"

Magda still did not listen; she continued to inhale her cigarette, uncaring of the request being made of her. Without so much as a warning, Hanala reached out and took the cigarette from the woman's mouth, scrunching it in the palm of her hand. She ignored the burning sensation as she stared down the woman; it was almost like challenging her to do something about it.

Ignoring her mutinous glare, Hanala slumped down into the seat next to Magda. She was done with those cackling bitches anyway, at least with Magda she knew where she stood, and it was somewhere around the level of shit.

"The outfit is a little small on you," she started, earning a dark glare from Magda. Hanala quickly amended. "I mean that it's a little short on you. You're quite a bit taller then I, you see... I had them tailored in my size…"

Hanala trailed off helplessly and bit her lip as the blonde with cold eyes. She looked away from the quarian woman.

"A Christian Dior tailored dress…" Magda spoke at long last, crossing one leg over the other. "You have good tastes."

Hanala inclined her head.

"Ah… thank you," she replied. "I can't take all the credit. I had… help."

Hanala went silent as it became clear that Magda was not going to push the conversation any further. Good… because it was making her remember Lene, and she was a woman Hanala attempted to block all her thoughts about.

She turned her eyes to Saleb, who was showing the little Goebbels girl how a datapad worked; presumably in an attempt to play a game or something along those lines. Perhaps it would be better if they played with something that didn't involve electronics. She would have to introduce the children to human games she had seen in her observations of humanity. Football… perhaps even capture the flag would amuse them.

"I have a translator you know," Magda suddenly spoke up, making Hanala jump in her seat; her words filled with rage as she subtly gestured to the other mothers. "I know what the gist of their gossips. They think me some sort of inferior being. It's rich coming from some fat, lazy cows."

Knowing exactly what that grazing herbivore livestock was exactly, Hanala had to suppress the urge to laugh. For a stone cold bitch, Magda Goebbels was apparently a sharp witted woman. She had to be considering the social circles she was running in before Joachim tricked her into coming to the fleet.

Magda wasn't wrong either. While Hanala's hearing was severely damaged by the Tiger round that nearly killed her and would soon need surgery to restore it to a proper level; she too could faintly pick up the Mother's gossiping with Magda on their minds. It was clear that these women were not taking a liking to the woman.

" _Fuck them_ ," she mumbled her breath in German,just loud enough for the woman to look to her in surprise.

That was when it happened. For the first time since they met, now rounding into its twentieth minute, Magda looked at Hanala with far less malice and annoyance then she had before. She looked close to breaking her stony expression. Perhaps they were finally making headway. She could help the human adjust to this new life she would have. Perhaps she would give Hanala a few parenting tips in return…

"Just… don't mind them, Frau Goebbels," Hanala assured the brooding mother. "They do not mean harm… well… not really. They just need to understand humans a little more than what they know now. I'm sure when things settle down, it will get better."

Magda did not reply. Instead she stood up and looked ready to storm someone. Hanala frowned and turned to the direction the Mother was staring at.

She could not believe it. There, sitting across from the human child sat a surprisingly curious Mal'Voss nar Eduni. A stupid grin on his face as he prodded the younger girl in a way that suggested he was examining her.

Before Magda could scream out in threatening sounding German that, while it might have been a warning, it would have certainly sounded like a screaming monster that would scare the children, Hanala stood up and turned to the Captain of the Eduni, who was too deep in a conversation to notice.

"KAIAH, PUT YOUR SON ON A LEASH!" Hanala screamed out to the woman.

Realizing that Hanala was acting like an Admiral instead of a fellow parental type, Kaiah launched herself from out of her seat and pulled the curious boy away from the human girl, who was still smiling. Probably out of confusion as the bickering in Khellish grew even stronger.

A little boy playing doctor with a new strange girl, of course it was bound to happen. It was something that Hanala had experienced it herself with Joachim…

Or was it the other way around? Huh.

"I'm sorry, Frau Goebbels," Hanala apologized to the fuming Magda. "Things are a little… loose when it comes to parenting. I can assure you that he meant no harm."

Hanala's reaction and apology were simply not enough. It was clear now how similar Magda and her own mother was when it came to the method of child rearing. Eight or eighty, if you did something to her children that offended her, there would be blood spilled over the matter. Things like dignity did not matter to her when her kids were in trouble.

"How do I get this damn thing to talk to them in their language?" Magda hissed, gesturing to the small translation earpiece. Hanala bit her lip.

"It's automatic."

Magda did not answer; she instead pushed past Hanala, marched through the children and planted herself in front of the shocked quarian women. Magda's eyes narrowed on them in a way that would make Hanala think about running away. It was clearly a German thing as she seen it in Joachim before.

 _"You had better keep your scrawny, frail looking, grubby, miscreant children off my Angels, or so help me_ _ **God**_ _I will have to do something about it,"_ She hissed at the women. _"Each and every one of you is the epitome of mediocre, lazy mothers; Liberal with the praise and too much of a weak-willed bitch to instil any sense of discipline into your misbehaved little monsters."_

The group of women could not believe their ears as a woman who was technologically inferior by centuries went after them with such violence in her tone that she sounded like a female krogan protecting her brood. Magda's hands were in tight balls, like she was ready to strike someone. Slowly, her mouth curled up into an awful sneer.

" _And while you're on the topic of my appearance,"_ Magda continued, her words growing poisonous _. "Might I suggest that instead of sitting on your fat, lazy asses, squealing about your hideous little bastards, you should hit the gymnasium instead and shed some weight, you disgusting_ _ **pigs**_ _!"_

The mother's weren't too heavy in weight as Hanala examined them closer. Sure they looked like they had children, but it wasn't bad. Hanala knew exactly what this was. Considering that Magda's late husband was an absolute master of the human condition, she was working some of his manipulative magic in the women to a varying degree of success. The Captain was unaffected by it. The other, the traditional mothers had far less self-esteem and were taking Magda's striking words to heart.

Satisfied that her words had hit home for them, Magda turned away, stepping between the Quarian children, she reached out and latched her hand onto Hedda's arm, and with one good yank she dragged her daughter off the ground, ignoring the protesting scream from the girl. Magda paused only once to turn to Hanala.

"You're better than them, Hanala Jarva, physically, culturally and attitude-wise," the National Socialist mother said to Hanala, her voice clearly being forced to remain calm. "Why you would stoop to keeping their company is beyond me… If you slum with scum, you're bound to fall into their trap."

Magda turned away, tugging out one of her cigarettes, with her free hand and dragging poor Hedda away, she left, her other children in tow, leaving the mothers and their children in a state of shock.

Hanala could not help herself, she smiled. Perhaps she made herself a new friend.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, removed several scenes 5000 words in total.**

 **Unlike previous stories in this series, the material I cut, I actually like it. For some reason, I cringe at Uplifted and the sequels leading to Arrival, but I like what I wrote with Arrival. I guess because I finally got to the parts I always wanted to write, but had to lead up to. I guess the delays gave me plenty of time to refine and strengthen it.**

 **The content isn't plot serious; it just feels like exposition that didn't need to be in the story. Need to draw a line in places, and as Eden has proven the leaner the better. I will add them to the cut content series I have planned.**


	3. The New Handler

**Chapter Three: The New Handler**

 **…**

Standing on the hardened tarmac, waiting as the shuttle touched down; Admiral Utala'Falan could not help but feel apprehensive about the passenger the fleet shuttle was carrying.

She had heard the horror stories from Rael'Zorah and Alaan'Jarva about how much trouble could come from her new subordinate, Oberst Joachim Hoch, if she did not manage him properly. From what she had learned about him from her fellow Admirals, Joachim was nursing serious antipathy towards quarians in general. It was rightly so, in Utala's opinion. Promises made to him were broken, used and deceived by nearly every quarian he knew, it was little wonder that there was hatred festering in him for quarians.

Hoping to get a better angle about him, Utala called up Hanala'Jarva for her own insight. It was clear as day by her puffy eyes that she had been in a state of tears only moments prior. She could barely quiver out his name as she explained the more personal side of Joachim Hoch. That he was a mentally unstable wreck just waiting to happen. That he needed dangerous narcotics to get through his actions of the past few months. It was clear to her that Joachim Hoch needed help, but would not accept it.

So Utala would do what the other Admirals had failed. Instead of denying him what he needed, she would oblige him.

Yes, she would treat him like how he wanted to be treated. Like an adult –capable of making his own decisions. There would be no manipulations on her part. If she needed something done, she would make a request or order it. She would not step in to stop him on his personal mission against the National Socialists. She would not encourage him, but she would neither deny him something he considered cathartic, no matter how terrible it seemed. For so long as he worked with her, that would be all that mattered. When he needed her help when the realization of what he was doing finally hit, she would be there for him as well.

Perhaps like a mother comforting a child.

Ultimately, if there had been an upside to all of this, it meant that she would not have much time to devote to thinking about Erwin Rommel.

Rommel was in a state of guilty mourning for his poor wife, Lucie, of whom, Rommel had been quietly seeing another woman on the side. That other woman was Utala. Since her random execution in February, Rommel kept far away from the quarian, keeping her far away so that he could focus on both the war and on his unstable son. Manfred Rommel apparently was blaming him for what happened. Judging from the cold shoulder she was receiving, it appeared that the Generalfeldmarschall had felt the exact same way.

It wasn't long until he called her into his offices upon his return from Germany after burying his wife. He had been extraordinarily polite about it, but essentially he told her that there was no possible way that he could continue the relationship. Not now, not until he figured out how to overcome the grief he buried for the good of his Afrika operations, and for the family he now found himself back with. She could not imagine how terrible he felt every time Manfred made some comment or another about him being a traitor.

Perhaps it had been for the best. Utala had to leave her posting anyways so that she could begin to work on her colony. With any luck when his personal life settled, once his grief could subside, when he didn't have a war to think about and when he felt better, perhaps then they could start it back up… perhaps…

The large shuttle touched down on the flight pad, its engines humming slower until they came to stop. The doors opened and out jumped the new civilian technicians, and then came the marines who would join the military force protecting the fledgling colony. All of them wore environmental suits; all of them looked up to the vividly blue Libyan sky with wonder. Under an actual sky was a new thing they would have to adjust to as they worked to settle this desert home of theirs.

"It's my pleasure to welcome you to Earth, Major, as well as the rest of you," the Admiral greeted her new staff with a careful introductory smile. "I trust that you have all read your introductory manuals and listened to the audio reports from Admiral Hanala'Jarva; are you ready for a 24 hour day?"

There was a low chuckle from the civilians. Smiling at them, she looked past them to the shuttle. There was still no sign of Joachim Hoch yet. Had he forgotten to come? She would not be surprised if Admiral Hanala'Jarva pulled him aside at the last moment.

Sighing, she turned back to the new additions. All of them, including the civilians now stood in a state of attention.

"Was there a human on board?" she finally inquired.

The civilians murmured lowly at the mention of Joachim Hoch. Stepping forward, the Major came to attention before the Admiral.

"Yes, sir," the Major snapped out to her, a little more disciplined then he probably intended. "He was passed out in the shuttle when we arrived… We didn't want to wake him up…"

As Utala nodded, more clanking off the shuttle caught her attention. It was the shuttle pilot helping an utterly burnt out looking Joachim Hoch off the shuttle. The forty seven new arrivals turned around as their human companion dragged his feet, pushing through the crowd.

Joachim Hoch was a far cry from the man she had met back in January. He was cold and distant, but could at least provide a laugh and a smile, even if it never once met his eyes. Gone were his stylish grey Waffen-SS apparel and his dusty rauchtarnmuster toned battle camouflage jacket. Instead he had traded it in for the far more conservative Heer uniform. Once he had a shadow of a beard, now it was overgrown.

He barely looked alive to her.

Without so much as a pause, Hoch pushed the quarian Major out of his way and simply stood there. He was almost hunched over like an old man, his body swaying back and forth, his eyes dulled and half open, though he did rub them hard enough to force them open.

Utala sighed again. He was going to be a lot of work; but considering what her colleagues… her people had cost him, it was work that was not only necessary, but completely owed.

"Welcome to the settlement of Maur'Sata, Joachim Hoch," Utala offered both her hand and her friendliest of smiles. "Herr Rommel has extended his apologies; he was tied up at the front. He's on his way back to his headquarters by tomorrow morning. We will deliver him to you then by local transport."

Letting go of her hand, Joachim nodded his head, his eyes finally held enough curiosity in them to look around at the vast colony being built before him.

"Admiral Zorah contacted me a few hours ago. I have been requested to serve as your handler from now on," Falan addressed the human. "I have agreed with him and might I say, I am looking forward to working with you. I trust you will approve of it?"

Joachim's eyes focused long enough to narrow his eyes as he turned back to look at her properly, his arms crossing together.

"The only reason I came is to collect my men. Are you going to pull me away from my duties in the Reich?" he asked rather pointedly.

The Admiral shook her head. She knew any other reaction would most likely elicit a rather charged reaction.

"No… I would be more comfortable if you kept up your work," she admitted to him softly. She decided she would not permit herself to be intimidated by the taller, younger man. "There are a lot of… well… bad people who need to be dealt with ah… severely."

Staring at her for several long seconds, Hoch turned away, his head nodding up and down in concurrence with what she was saying. With his attention elsewhere, Falan turned her attention to the new members of her team and silently gestured them to move on about their business. It was an order they happily obliged.

Joachim reached into his pockets and retrieved that beautiful gold cigarette case he held onto since he was apparently a boy himself.

"I won't get everybody… everyday more and more of them are fleeing or joining Heydrich for his protection… they know I'm watching them," he said as he pulled out a cigarette, his words as grim as his skull like expression. "I am merely thinning out their numbers. Eventually they'll return the favour soon enough."

Utala went pale at Joachim grim fatalism. As much as she prepared for his melancholy outlook, she had not prepared for him openly discussing his own mortality like it was the most casual thing he could say to her. Suddenly sniffing as though he had a stuffed nasal cavity, Joachim turned away and examined the building occurring all around him.

"Seems like you've been busy," he said simply, smoking his cigarette.

Utala nodded and stepped towards him, standing quietly at his side. Frankly she was glad to not have to find a way to fill in the gap of conversation after his self-eulogy.

"Yes," she finally spoke, offering him a slight smile. "This settlement will be used to house the twenty to fifty thousand initial citizens on Earth; architects, engineers, labour, soldiers... they will begin the construction of a proper city once they have settled in."

Hoch stared at her quizzically.

"With what building materials exactly, Admiral?" he inquired. "The war may be hard place to find material to build a new city out here."

For the first time, Hoch actually sounded somewhat interested in query he was making. He looked around; sure enough there was none of what he considered traditional human building supplies. No timber or rebar, no cement, no concrete, nor steel.

"Why, the Sahara Desert of course," Utala spoke as though it was the most obvious thing ever. "We are a people who firmly believe in building with as little ecological footprints as we can make. That is to say, we do not need to cut down trees, or use cementing agents in excess. The sand can be melted into super dense glass buildings. We want to leave as little an environmental damage to this planet while we are guests here."

Joachim looked at her incredulously.

"And those?"

Utala turned around. Joachim Hoch was pointing out the huge automated perimeter guns pointing out towards the desert. It was the UBV-67 General Defence Gatling Cannons -mass drive weaponry that could tear through any tank and plane that any human ever built, accurate within a centimetre and was effective three kilometres in any direction –across the field or into the sky. This combined with the shielding and the rocket platforms and marines made the colony less of a colony and more like a stronghold.

Considering this was the first official imprint of quarians on earth, it had to be a deep, unconquerable footstep. There could be no display of weakness in the eyes of the soon to be aware human race. With any luck, all of this would be unnecessary and eventually dismantled in a matter of decades. At least that had been the plan. With humans, who really knew?

"It's merely a precaution," was her explanation for the human. "Quarian settlements are going to be extremely strict on how we guard our borders. You must understand, humans in large are still potential threats. For the good of your planet, our technologies must not fall into the wrong hands until they are ready to be introduced. As such we will be emplacing strict guidelines on humans we allow into our borders, and our borders will be defended at all times… with extreme prejudice."

Hoch crossed his arms. The explanation of the quarian attitude to how their settlement would be run was clearly bothering him. It would not matter. It was not as though he would be banned from entering the quarian mandate.

"Would you go to war with the nations that spy on you?""

Falan could not help herself, she laughed gaily at the suggestion that her people would ever be put into the position of actually having to go to war against humanity. Certainly not now in her life time anyway. She subsided her laughter as she noticed how bothered Hoch looked by it.

"Oh no, war would imply that we see the nation that targets us as a genuine threat. Not when we have nearly a half millennia technological advancement over your people," she stated quite abruptly, unable to keep the smile off her expression. "However, we will have policies in place to punish the guilty, mark my words, for those guilty of espionage, the punishment will be severe."

Accepting the answer, Joachim simply nodded.

They continued walking. As they moved the rumbling of combustion engines caught their attention. Coming towards them was a plethora of armour moving towards them like a convoy of the latest Panzer IV variants, Panzerjägers, Panthers, Tigers, heavy trucks towing artillery and stationary direct fire guns. It was enough vehicles to field at least a division.

It amused her that Joachim looked at them almost longingly. Not surprising considering most of his armour was confiscated by Helmuth Weidling for his disobedience in choosing to raze Darmstadt to the ground. Most of his armour was sent east to the front, leaving him mostly infantry and light vehicles. Considering what he had done to Darmstadt, it was almost understandable that the General had punished him like this.

For everyone's sake, she would have to find a way to rein him in when he was called away from his personal missions to participate in conventional warfare

"This is a relay station between the manufacturing plants on Luna to the Afrika Front," she informed him as they paused to watch a full column of Panzer VI Tigers rumble on by them. "We now supply the equipment, armaments and munitions that are necessary to supply the front. Since the war industry fell into the hands of the OKW, they have handed us manuals upon manuals of information on your armaments industry. We are digitizing it and feeding the information into the data storage. The entirety of German weapon production catalogue is ours to construct at will…."

Once again, Joachim was no longer paying attention. His eyes were widened at the behemoth Tank Destroyer rolling behind a Panther. It was huge, sloping fortress of steel with a massive 8.8 centimetre Pak 43 anti-tank gun. It would be an absolutely terrifying thing to go up against in Falan's opinion. From what she had seen of the American war making ability, nothing short of a heavy bombing raid would be able to stop this thing.

"What in the hell is that?" He breathed uncertainly.

"That? Oh, it's a Tiger converted into a Panzerjäger … otherwise known as a Ferdinand," she informed the gaping Heer officer. "The two Tiger contract competitors were Henschel and Ferdinand Porsche. Porsche was somewhat arrogant; he believed his panzer design would win, so he had about a hundred made before Hitler choose the contract winner. He didn't win the contract; as such, his engineers begun to repurpose his design into a behemoth Panzerjäger, or, a better description, a mobile direct fire platform. We liked the design, so we improved upon her. Could you believe these Porsche geniuses designed her without self-defence in mind? She didn't have so much as a hull machine gun for anti-infantry defence!"

Hoch laughed humourlessly as he turned away. Taking it as a cue, Falan led him down the pedestrian route, watching as Joachim rubbed the sweat off his head caused by the heat of the Libyan sun, the rumbling of the Tiger's kicking up dust onto the two of them.

"Anyways, all of this will ease the burden off the German industrial output significantly. Much of northern and eastern Germany's industry has been seized by the Nazis," she pressed on as they pushed through a gathering of engineers chattering about the residence structures they were planning out. "Although they allow the manufactured armaments to reach the front, they keep a good portion of it to keep themselves as armed as we are. They allow the Eastern Wehrmacht forces just enough to hold their grounds against the Bolsheviks, but not enough for Manstein to engage in his offensive. It's becoming more and more likely that it will be pushed to spring 1944 unless we start pushing hard into the industrial heart of the Reich. Before we can even begin to think about seizing Berlin, we need the Ruhr valley back in our hands."

"How much of the Wehrmacht stayed loyal to the Party?"

The question was blunt and a good one.

"A good portion, unfortunately for us, most of the reserve Armies stationed in northern and eastern Germany, the Danish garrison, even troops stationed in western Poland also have been spotted trickling across to shore up defences," she informed him. "Several units have professed their loyalties to the Prussian leadership. They are waging insurgencies in the heart of the Nazi controlled territory."

The news was apparently bad enough to warranting Hoch to reach his cigarettes once again. Falan observed him silently. She would understand the ticks that her new project had. With any luck, her quiet observations now would save her from violent confrontations, whether verbal or physical, in the near future.

"We have not produced a body of the Führer. They want proof that we cannot provide at the moment. They don't care about the extermination programs or other heinous acts the Nazis have committed. They care only about the line of succession, and until Hitler's fate is revealed, they will defend the oath they swore to," the Admiral informed him. "Soon however we will have the Prussian Crown Prince in a position to demand the oath be sworn to him instead. The moment the Wehrmacht capture the Ruhr and Berlin, he will be in a position to demand such things."

Hoch nodded as he exhaled cigarette smoke. He did not look comforted in the slightest, but it would have to do for the time being. Turning away from the man, she opened the doors to the structure they were standing in front of, a hanger bay dedicated to storage of Luftwaffe planes.

"Here we are," Utala said, closing the hanger door behind them. "This is where the humans we permit into the settlement shall stay until proper residences are in place. Come with me, I'll show you to your quarters." Pausing for a moment, she reached into her pocket to produce a small datapad, offering it to him, she added, "Should you have need for any equipment, feel free to browse and make your requests."

He did not take it from her.

Instead he ashed his cigarette in one hand, the other pulling off his peaked cap. Joachim turned away to look around at the large hanger they stood in. His eyes focused on the five parked dual propeller engine Henschel HS-129 close air support aircrafts. It was the natural replacement to the terribly aging Junker Ju-87 Stuka.

Joachim stepped away from the Admiral; cigarette between his lips as wandered down to the Jago bombers. Stopping in front of one of them, he pressed his hand against the nose mounted thirty millimetre autocannon. His expression broke into a grim smile. Like a child looking at a brand new toy. It was a peculiar sight to say the least.

"I wanted to serve in the Luftwaffe at one point, you know? I had a few… doubts about going into the SS-VT after officer school," he admitted rather distantly, like a spirit. "Langer told me I was too tall for that service. I bet service in the Luftwaffe is probably significantly less… _dirty_. Shorter too... would have had higher mortality rate…"

Falan frowned. She knew better than to say what was on her mind, other than the clear case of Hoch's newfound death worship. That it sounded like this Langer character had manipulated him into choosing a life that wasn't entirely his choosing, a man who set him down this path of self-revulsion, whether knowingly or not. Hoch may have worshipped his fallen idol, but Falan found what Hanala'Jarva told her about his past extremely troubling.

Joachim turned back as Utala allowed her hand to touch the dazed Oberst's shoulder blade. Once again she offered him a faint smile that made the man somewhat at ease with the physical contact. Her hand rose up and gestured to the aircrafts across the aisle from the close support attack planes. Joachim's eyes widened even wider as he and the woman wandered over to inspect the line of twenty or so sleek turbo jet fighters parked there.

"The Luftwaffe's new toy; that one is the ME-262 interceptor. Designed by your aeronautical engineers, tested and perfected by our engineers," she introduced the Oberst to the future powerhouse that would revitalize the ailing Luftwaffe once they were fully shipped. "We delayed her delivery after discovering how slow she was nto turn and how long it took to reach higher elevations under combat stress. We have since compressed her jet engines by thirty percent to ease wind resistance."

Utala turned her and Hoch's attention to the fighter sitting to the ME-262. It looked like an ME-262 in appearance only. This was their attempt at creating ascetically similar military equipment to their new client race. It looked Germanic in appearance only. Under the design was just as sophisticated technology used in their short range fighters used to defend the flight.

For the first time in forty eight years, the quarian military would be devoting resources to waging war inside a planet's atmosphere. The quarian land army was non-existent. It would be very likely that they would need aid from the Wehrmacht to train a sufficient military force. There needed to be an army for the quarian nation as much as there would need to be an exo-planetary naval force branch added into the Wehrmacht.

"The other is the ME-262q Vertical Take-Off and Landing Interceptor," she pressed on. "We are waiting for the Luftwaffe to train their pilots before we hand them over the ME-262 to them. The VTOL shall be for our pilots, who will be joining the Luftwaffe if the Soviets and perhaps the west refuse to end the war."

Gesturing for him to follow, Hoch and Falan continued walking down the line of quarian and human atmospheric fighters; eventually talk coming from down the line caught their attention.

Sure enough, a handful of humans had been gathered around the other side of the final jet interceptor. They were sitting there, listening to quarian instructors, who were teaching them the finer points of using the new aircrafts they would take to the skies with. The flight instructor was male. He had to be. Utala had to specifically replace the female instructor because the humans could not take her seriously. It must have been one of the by-products of having a male dominated society. With any luck that would change soon.

As soon as he looked up, the jet fighter instructor went to a state of attention at the sight of the Admiral and the Oberst watching his teachings from afar. Looking back to where their quarian teacher was looking, the Luftwaffe pilots stood up as well and went to attention. It was probably not for her, but for Hoch standing next to her.

Utala turned her gaze to the leader of the new Flight.

"Herr Hauptmann Marseilles," Falan addressed. "I suppose you cannot wait to try her?"

The leader of the flight, rather scrawny, but somewhat dashing, gave the Admiral a wide grin as he nodded. He was Hans-Joachim Marseilles; a leading fighter ace of Jagdgeschwader 27, Herr Rommel's favourite pilot and the first Luftwaffe pilot to volunteer to join DJG-1.

"She's beautiful, Admiral," Hans-Joachim said almost wistfully, earning a laugh from his kameraden. "We'll put her through her paces soon enough. Burning bombers will never look easier."

Nodding, Utala stepped back and allowed the instructor to continue his lessons. The two of them continued down the hanger, past a pair of BF-109G's and a solitary Focke Wulf FW-190

"Why don't you just save us time, cut the bullshit about developing us and design something for us." Joachim suddenly spoke, continuing to stare ahead.

Gone was his mood, back to state of bleak weariness. His snide words only added to her annoyance. It did not take much to revert him back into his state of stubborn pessimism. She exhaled slowly and, passing by three JU-87 Stuka's, they left the hanger bay and moved into the back rooms of the Hanger.

"No," the Admiral replied with as much calm as she could summon. "Joachim, you must understand that your uplifting has to be done differently than the previous one. Last time the salarians simply dumped their entire plethora of information and technology onto the krogan. It worked, but then it because a nightmare."

Joachim turned back, his head tilting slightly. Opening the doors to the human barracks, Utala ushered the giant inside.

"We know much about your species," she spoke with a smile, which she showed off to him as she closed the doors behind them and moved into the Luftwaffe recreation room. "We know you are creative, inquisitive and scientific, and as a species that shares those traits, we find it unconscionable to confine you into a role of dependence… or worse… servitude. We will provide you the tools, we shall provide you with the technology, but it will be primarily up to your people to reach these feats on your own."

Joachim turned to look at her carefully.

"Even if it takes you longer than you would like?" he spoke, not even bothering to hide annoyance.

Utala quirked her lips.

"You are an incredibly ambitious species… when you are not focused on killing each other in record numbers," she stated as fact. "I have faith that you will see the expansion of humanity beyond the relay in your lifetime-"

"Do not delude yourself, nor I Admiral," Joachim growled, cutting her off from her line of thought. "Like it or not, I'd be lucky to see the end of this year… maybe to the end of the decade, let alone the turn of century… the new millennium."

Utala tilted her head, trying to understand the words he was muttering. She had no idea who he was talking about. Then again, it wasn't as though he was addressing her. He was talking more to himself. It was like he was punishing himself for something that she had said.

It was clear now to her that this went beyond drug abuse and grief. Hoch was a well-oiled soldier. He had spent most of his youth training to be a soldier, had spent almost four years in every killing field he copula throw himself into. He had witnessed death and took life. Everything and everyone was gone in his eyes. Death was all he had to show for his achievements. He had no business to be in the field.

There was only one reason she would not write him and force him into mental services care. It was because quarians simply did not understand the delicate nature of the human psyche. It would not be long now until Joachim came to her, broken like he had went to Hanala and Admiral Zorah, begging to end his services. The only now was how much blood would be spilled before he got to this point of no return.

"Still," he pressed on, turning his focus back to her, voice and eyes almost filled with a peculiar tone that she could only describe as sadness. "You could spare a lot of blood if you made a proper threat to the world. You could end the war in an hour. Save a lot of mothers, wives and children around the world some grief."

The words hit her in the stomach with a tremendous amount of force. Yes… her people had the technological capability to force a worldwide end to the conflict if they wanted to. Orbital strikes on all side to force the war to finally end would certainly bring about an end to the conflict with the fear they could produce.

She knew better then to put too much thought into what-if's. Policy was in place for a reason. No matter how logical Joachim seemed.

"Again, Joachim, you're failing to understand the difference between guiding and outright manipulation," She said as they walked out of the hall and towards the barracks he was to be situated in. "We will fire the first warning shot. It will likely frighten the masses in the western democracies into ending the war. We cannot assume the same for the Bolsheviks. Ultimately, if they cannot be reasoned with, then they must be brought to their knees by your people, for as long as this militarist Germany exists and Communist Russia exists, there will be a death spiralling struggle between the two powers until one or the other collapses… and as an Admiral, I can assure you, we will never resort to total destruction of the Russian people via orbital bombardment. A threat must have teeth to back the demand, or else it's just bluster."

Hoch clearly did not like the answer, but he nodded grimly as the mess created by Operation Barbarossa finally started to really hit home to him. As they stopped in front of Joachim's room. Utala once again reached out to touch his shoulder. Joachim looked up, although shaky from sleep deprivation and narcotic withdrawal, he managed to smile thinly.

"Well… I think I am going to like you, Admiral Falan," He admitted to her, his tone unable to match the smile. "You talk straight. You're certainly a step up from Admiral Zorah and Jarva… ah… Alaan'Jarva… well…and Hanala, I guess. Pack of habitual liars and cowards… all of them. I'm tired of dealing with them… Not sure if I can apply feeling misanthropic towards quarians, but it… it's the only word I have for your people…"

Utala smiled weakly. Joachim's sake and her own, she would forget that he had said that to her. He was tired and annoyed and extremely isolated. With luck and her guiding, perhaps he would overcome it in time.

"Well, I can assure you, I have no time to use you," She swore to him, her hand squeezing his forearm. "I Tried it once before on you in January and… well.. it made me feel sick. I'd like to think that I am capable of learning from my mistakes."

Joachim huffed out a harsh chuckle as he slowly nodded. Utala gestured towards the doorway.

"Now go on, get some sleep. I think you need it," she politely requested.

Turning back to the doorway, Joachim nodded in concurrence as went to finally get some proper sleep in him.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, Angst extermination (honestly I'm surprised Hoch wasn't called out for being an Emo sad boy in the original release, lol)**


	4. Scared Straight

**Chapter Four: Scared Straight**

 **...**

 _"Are you really that hungry?"_

 _Putting the knife down as he finished buttering his slice of rye sourdough. Joachim looked up to meet the source of the question being offered to him, It was a smiling Lene Langer, clutching her new child, Geli who had just finished her bottle in her arms, He was about to answer when he realized he still had a mouthful of roasted duck needing to be swallowed._

 _Doing so, he nodded his head._

 _"Yes," he assured the woman. "Academy feeds us well, but it's never quite as good as yours."_

 _Although she appeared thrilled that Joachim, now wolfing down on the roasted Duck and then sipping the Maß of dark lager provided to him had held such high esteem for her cooking, sitting next to her and slumped over, staring at his plate, Gerald Langer emitted a short laugh as he picked through his own dinner._

 _"Now I know that you're lying. Lene, you need a Cook."_

 _Looking up from the infant, Geli, Lene shot her husband a look of pure annoyance as her hand reached out and smacked his forearm, making him his as he retracted it. Doing his absolute best not to choke on his drink, Joachim set the glass back down and was determined not to get in coming storm._

 _He had just gotten back from his first year at SS-Junkerschule Bad Tölz and had three months of rest and relaxation before he went back to continue his studies and training. The moment he entered the school, and for the first time he had felt right at home. The atmosphere in the officer school was better for him. In the public school system, he was lazy. Smart according to his educators, but far too wrapped up in girls and causing trouble for anyone who looked at him funny. His zero family interest in him left him unsupervised and free to do whatever the hell he had wanted._

 _It was a freedom his friends had envied and took advantage of. If they got into a fight, they always made sure to rile Joachim up into joining the fight, if they needed cigarettes and drinks, Joachim was the one to do it. If they needed to destroy things, Joachim was there. That was who Joachim was to his pals back in Kiel; a kid that the good German boys could live through vicariously. It was one of the reasons for his decision to quit school and head south to Munich… where he stumbled into Gerald and since then things were never the same._

 _Yes, he was trouble and in need of good discipline, something he learned quickly the moment he stepped into the grounds and found himself nearly trampled by one of the older cadets who was on his horse. Joachim Peiper was his name. He was quick to terrorize the younger man during his first three months of training. By the time Peiper was ready to graduate, the torment endured had steeled him significantly. He might have been a right bastard, but he did sake Peiper's hand upon the receiving of his commission, as well as swearing to Peiper he would spend the next year out doing him in every way. It was a promise he intended upon keeping._

 _School also provided him with making a new set of friends. Friends he could count on, unlike the undisciplined rabble he left in Kiel. They would never ask anything that they themselves would not do for him. They were true friends. It was as Gerald had told him when he dropped him off on the first day. 'Friendship and comradely will always be the core value of the SS. You make friends, you make connections, you make connections, and you will rise farther and faster than you could ever dream possible.'_

 _"So cooking aside, I trust you are learning a lot?" Lene inquired, shooting her husband one last glare before looking back to the eighteen year old._

 _Looking up as he swallowed a mouthful of potatoes, Joachim nodded enthusiastically._

 _"I am," Joachim assured the couple who took a genuine interest in his future. "It's not just a lot of physical training like I thought it would be, but education as well. We spend nearly as much time in the classroom as we do outside. 'A good National Socialist and a good soldier is always the one who is educated.' Brigadeführer Paul Hausser said that when he showed up to inspect the school and the students."_

 _Joachim fell silent and watched as Gerald raised his strong drink, saying 'here, here!' Joachim smiled and placed his hands in his lap._

 _"It is tough training, don't get me wrong. Many have already fallen out in disgrace," he continued. "Off to languish in the mediocrity that is the Heer, I suppose."_

 _Gerald nodded, smiling as he must have come up with the same conclusion._

 _"So what do you plan on doing with your break?"_

 _Joachim's smile turned into a slight frown as he put some thought into the question Gerald was asking. He had a few ideas, but in all honesty, he didn't want to mess up the good thing he had here. If it meant spending three months hanging out with babies, young people and an older couple, then it might be a small sacrifice. He didn't want to come off as ungrateful for their investment in him. For him to just leave and do things on his own for three months; well… it seemed wrong._

 _"Not sure," He spoke slowly, casually. "I might just stay here, if it is fine with you. Or I don't know… I was thinking about going up to Kiel."_

 _The mention of Kiel gave Lene and Gerald pause._

 _They were clearly not lost on the significance of returning to the city of his birth. Gerald and Lene shared a look. It was not so much as a mutual agreement, as it was Lene looking absolutely murderous at the suggestion and Gerald deciding he would not voice an opinion. He did not have to. Lene turned back, her glare softening to a smile for Joachim._

 _"Not that it is our right to block you access from going there; but I do not think that you going to see your mother would be a good idea, Joachim," Lene spoke, her words delicate, as though she believed she would trigger a flash of anger in the eighteen year old._

 _The anger she thought she had caused wasn't displayed. If anything it amused him to see her so concerned over his past. He had no intentions of repeating history. It was frivolous concern. He was emancipated. He no longer needed Marta Hoch in his life; and he had the Langer's to thank for that._

 _"What?" Joachim said, his mouth forming a grin as he leaned back to look at Lene's expression of concern. "No, I would never go see her, I swear to you that. I have friends in Kiel I haven't seen in some time. A girl too, she started writing to me again once I started writing them… Katarina Kass."_

 _Gerald whistled lowly the moment Joachim spoke her name. Joachim bowed his head. Katarina Kass was a girl in a group of girls whom both Helmut Mann and he hunted like prey. All of them fell to him or Helmut at one point or another, all except for her. She was far too shy to get involved with someone like him at the time. He was an undisciplined hooligan, who had far too much fight for her to handle._

 _Now here they were, two years later, older now and exchanging letters with this apparently interested young woman. Perhaps this could be interesting if he played it just right. With any luck, she might have liberated herself just enough to let herself become seduced by him._

 _"Katarina Kass," he told the interested Lene and Gerald, as well as the clearly paying attention Helena. "She is a daughter to a shipbuilder back in Kiel. She started writing to me while I was in my first weeks at school. Got to talking and now she'd like to see me one of these days-"_

 _"Is she pretty?" Gerald cut across his explanation. "Joachim Hoch, if she turns out to be some two hundred pound wildebeest and you're fine with that, I am not going to be happy with you. Lazy girls are beneath you, Joachim."_

 _Joachim howled out a laugh and was quickly joined by Gerald. Lene did her absolute best not to throw a plate at each of the unrepentantly proud male chauvinists. Keeping her cool, it was now her turn to find her cigarettes as she muttered and cleaned Geli's cheeks._

 _"I'd rather be dead then seen with some hideous thing. If she got ugly, I'll cut it off, I swear it," he promised Gerald. "She said she joined the League of German Maidens. Those girls are never fat."_

 _Gerald emitted a low whistle._

 _"Well, would you look at that, Lene?" Gerald spoke to his smiling wife. "She's looking for a husband! A proper German maiden, falling for young, dashing soldier, in six months you'll be conceiving your first child!"_

 _Joachim blanched. The last thing he wanted on his mind was the inevitability of becoming a Father. He had no idea what he wanted to do once his career was underway, and he had no time to be a Father during his service. He would wait until he done being a soldier, and that would not be for a long time. From the way his instructors spoke, war break out tomorrow._

 _Joachim looked away from Gerald's relentless teasing and turned instead to Lene._

 _"Put your husband's muzzle back on, please Lene?" He begged the Mother in vain._

 _Lene, however, was not willing to aid him just yet._

 _"Oh, but we're just so proud of you!" Lene cried out, dramatically joining in with her husband's teasing as her tone became simpering. "To think you looked like a vagrant Gypsy when you first came to us. Now you're clean cut, respectable, you even have a future!"_

 _All that Joachim could do was drop his head hard onto the table, causing a loud thud and making both Helena and little Wilhelm laugh at his display of annoyance. Causally he lifted his head up just enough to shoot a smile toward the two children, laughing at the display being offered by the relatively newcomer to the family. They were good kids, took after their parents._

 _He huffed as Gerald's hand fell down and hit Joachim's back hard. Joachim looked up and found Gerald, offering Joachim one of his cigarettes to him. Taking one and lighting up, Hoch leaned back into his seat._

 _"Hell," he said as he lit the cigarette in between Joachim's lips. "I'll pay for your train ticket myself. Have a good time, you earned it."_

 _Exhaling smoke through his nose, Joachim smiled and nodded, turning away from Gerald. He did not pay attention to the sigh emitted from Gerald, nor as he leaned backwards into his seat._

 _"And if it doesn't work out… you could wait a few years," he sighed. "Helena will need a husband soon enough. I can't think of a better man to be that, right Helena?_

 _Joachim coughed violently as he swallowed a mouthful of smoke. Across from him, Helena, who was no more than 13, was wide eyed as she swept her head so hard that it sent her blonde locks swaying as she turned her angry dark eyes to her Father's for his casual matchmaking attempt._

 _"Father, how dare you!" she cried out, scandalized by his words._

 _Dropping the plates into the sink, Lene turned back, her teeth showing as she smiled deviously._

 _"Oh, don't you deny your crush the satisfaction of the truth, my dear," she retorted as she looked from the shocked Joachim, to the sheet white Helena. "You should not have left your diary out. You know I like to know other people's businesses and that I never hide things from your Father!"_

 _Mortified, Helena screamed as she scrapped back the chair and fled the room faster than most sprinters Joachim knew in officer school, fleeing from her parents combined laughter._

 _Joachim groaned whether they loved you or hated you, parents were dicks._

…

Opening his eyes, Joachim Hoch wake to face to the horrible reality he was now living in. All he had left was memories, thoughts and dreams. Everything else had been stolen from him by Reinhard Heydrich's rage.

All that remained of the Langer's that he could find were the few personal trinkets left behind in Gerald's offices; a picture of the family in a frame, in Gerald's wallet, a photo of Lene when she was in her early twenties, and another of them on their wedding day. They were all that seemed to indicate that this family had existed at all.

They were reminders to him that this family, who took him in, who cared for him and did their best to provide him with a better life, had been cut down in the prime of their lives…

All this death… it was because of _him_.

Rubbing his eyes, Joachim dragged his tired body to a sitting position and stared at the sliding doors. He would have to get going soon. There was no rest for him. No days off. This was the first time in forty three hours that he managed to get some sleep. His aching bones and muscle were screaming at him as he forced them out of their rest as he stood up and pulled off the sleeping robes that his quarian host had provided for him.

Gathering the uniform he wore, which had apparently been washed and pressed of any wrinkles, he went to go and hit the showers.

It was these quiet moments Joachim tried his hardest to avoid. They gave him time to think about things that were not immediate. That left him thinking about nothing. Gone were the aspirations towards the future. He knew he would not see it. One day he would be back in civilian life, his guard potentially down. Next thing he would know were the footsteps behind him, the clicking of a hammer being pulled back or the perhaps cold steel pressed into his head, then… the absolute nothingness.

It was a fate he would deserve too. The sheer amount of murder he was committing, and although most of his victims were flat out monsters, they were still unarmed victims to his murder campaign. He was not much better than they were. The only difference between them was that he was not state sanctioned. It was a favour for powerful men.

Yes, it was no longer a cathartic experience for him. There was no healing. Not after killing half the Gestapo stationed in Innsbruck. Not when he knew that he doing the dirty work on behalf of Von Rundstedt and Von Manstein, who pulled him aside for a private meeting shortly after he purged Vienna of Nazism. They believed that extending the trial beyond Hitler, showing the world just how disgusting the creatures that disguised themselves as police and bureaucrats had been when they were in charge. They needed to protect German public image, and that was best served through a bloody purge of all the major criminals the Wehrmacht were designating.

The only one who stood against these killings and him was a Crown Prince, barely a decade older them him. He had been groomed to one day become a head of a family, not a leader of the vast, nation conquering military controlling a country without any form of civilian oversight. He wanted to see as many prisoners rounded up as possible for trials. His belief had apparently been to forget the stubborn German pride everyone held onto. The country needed some humility by showing the world just how depraved the people of Germany allowed their leadership to become.

This of course, could not happen in the eyes of men like Rundstedt and the two Admiral Jarva's and Falan. Hoch, as tired as he had been with killing these bastards, had to agree. To the realists, this would be the icing on the cake when the world finally learned, not only of the collaboration between the German nation and the quarians, but the extent of how long the aliens knew that this extermination program was occurring and how little they did until recently.

Ultimately, as well intentioned as he might have been, Louis Ferdinand of House Hohenzollern was simply ill equipped to stand against the might of the older, more cynical officer class he had to try to rein control over. Very few listened to him. The only reason he was still relevant appeared to because of Admiral Zorah and a core group of Generals who were considered traditionalists. It would not belong before his fate would be that of his Grandfather: nothing but a figurehead to the Wehrmacht.

Although unified against the National Socialists, they were not shy about their war of words. It had gotten so bad that General Gunther von Kluge had challenged General Heinz Guderian to a pistol duel after an argument. The only thing that stopped it had been Rommel, and even he was insulted by angered Prussians for not only his heritage, but for his history with Hitler, as well as him being such a young Generalfeldmarschall –the youngest in the history.

 _Fuck_ … what were they, twelve year old girls? Didn't they have a war to keep these glorified idiots in line?

Wiping the water from his face as he turned off the shower nozzle, he stepped out of the shower, still groggy as he dried his beard and hair. Dropping his towels, he went to go put on his uniform, his eyes falling to the bottle of Pertivin as he pulled on his underwear and trousers.

Hanala, who appeared to be dead set against his narcotic use, referred to it as Methamphetamine, which was technically true. Two pills and he would be properly energetic and lack any of his emotional burdens for a day. Two more and he would be awake for another 36 hours. The thing was, she was in no position to judge him. She was too busy taking in a child to care for, to do what was right.

Seek vengeance for what happened to her Brother and her Sister-in-Law.

It was hard to believe she had turned tail and became a coward. Saleb had plenty of family left to tend her while she attended to her duties. Having her standing at his side would have made things like Pertivin unnecessary. It would be like the old days -the two of them taking care of each other. When the smoke settled, when quariankind settled onto the world, then Hanala could return to her duties as a guardian.

Unscrewing the bottle, Joachim shook two pills out of the bottle and dry swallowed them. He would dare say how he really felt about her choice to her. She was liable to turn into a killing machine and in a matter of seconds; the two of them would be dead at each other's hands.

So instead of the confrontation, Joachim simply assumed that they were over as a couple.

Hanala's offer of helping him get away from the war he was waging was more of her false flags. Her new way to trick him back into the hands of quarian doctors was to trick him into settling down with raising a child. He could see it in her eyes that it wasn't what she wanted. She knew what he had become and was absolutely terrified to see what he became.

Besides, even if there was a chance that she still felt for him the way they felt for each other prior to his posting to the Kehlsteinhaus. He could no longer live with himself if she had to spend the rest of her lives looking over her shoulder when the inevitable retaliation occurred. He could not fathom getting her killed for what he did.

Yes, Ernst Kaltenbrunner's haunting prophecy would be the end of him, but he dared not extend it to her if he could help it. He would make a pact with the devil to keep her safe.

The pact was something on his mind since he left the quarian fleet and started his terrible campaign of murder. He had worked out most of the details. He would approach the Abwehr chief and ask he get in contact with Kaltenbrunner. In exchange for Hanala's life, he was prepared to offer him his protection. Although he was just an Oberst, he was now extremely well connected. He could persuade the inevitable desire for revenge away from the chief of the RSHA. He would finally get the life that he, like Joachim had wanted: A chance to escape.

It was stomach turning, yes. It was a revolting concept to actually plot about helping a man who sped up the extermination at a frightening pace during his short reign as chief of the RSHA; but for Hanala's protection… he was willing to sell what was left of the soul he had to convince Kaltenbrunner, the inevitable leader to the fleeing Nazis, that their rage was to be only directed to him.

Buttoning his jacket up, Joachim raised his omni-tool and activated the chat function.

"How's my Blondi?" He inquired to the man he called, his tone failing to inject any of the curiosity which his words spelt.

On the other end, Oberst Claus von Stauffenberg turned his head and narrowed his one eye at his commandant. Inwardly Hoch smirked as he watched the reaction. Turning a minor noble into a dog handler must have caused him great annoyances.

 _"She's fine, I just took her out,"_ Von Stauffenberg responded curtly. "Where are you, Hoch?"

Joachim inhaled his cigarette.

"Quarian settlement in Libya," he informed the Oberst, who digested the news rather unpleasantly. "The admiral here has authorized access to the quarian manufacturing plants. I need to rearm our battalion stationed here; Rommel will be stripping them of their equipment. How is the rest of the regiment?"

"They took our Panther's away, we have twenty three Panzer IV's and about a dozen Panzer III's," he informed his commandant with an expression of _'I told you so.' "_ Weidling has decided we should stick to being primarily a rifle regiment. He says that if we behave, he might open us up to the trainer tanks. Panzer I and II's…"

It was Joachim's turn to narrow his eyes. How dare the General strip him of his armour capabilities simply out of a desire to see him punished? This went too far. Looking at the datapad left behind by Admiral Falan, Joachim decided there and then he would turn his unit into the premiere armoured battalion. Weidling be damned. If he had a problem with it, he could speak to Falan. The General seemed to misunderstand how their working relationship was. He was attached to Weidling, he was not his subordinate.

"I'll handle the General," Joachim mumbled as he ashed the cigarette out in the tray. "What's happening on the front?"

Stauffenberg gave an incredulous laugh, like Joachim had told a joke.

"Which front? The two fronts in Africa? The Soviet Union? Waiting for a possible attack in France? Yugoslavia? Perhaps you mean your private little war?" he listed off. Looking at the dark stare offered by Hoch he snorted. "Oh…You mean in the Fatherland," he spoke sardonically. "Well, they're battling for Frankfurt as we speak, the situation is growing grave," Stauffenberg spoke with a resigned sigh. "The SS have moved loyalist Wehrmacht forces to reinforce them. It's getting brutal now. We are a rear-guard to the assault. Defending what is left of Darmstadt. It doesn't help that this Werwolf partisan group is bombing everywhere that we think we have secured, and then there is the other rumour going around."

Joachim watched silently as Stauffenberg flexed his mechanical hand uncomfortably. Joachim knew exactly how it must have felt to be him in that moment. There would a long periods of feeling his artificial limb was something completely foreign to his mind. He imagined it must have been worse for Stauffenberg, considering that Joachim had a new arm in a matter of hours, whereas Von Stauffenberg had been limbless for months.

"Other rumour?" Hoch pressed

Still staring at his hand, Stauffenberg nodded.

"That the Party has called Great War veterans back into their service as another line of defence against us; former members of the Freikorps and the SA have been apparently reactivated as an auxiliary military police force," he informed him. "They are also arming Hitlerjugend children as well, serving as snipers, saboteurs… There is talk that the Waffen-SS may actually raise an entire Division out of the 16 to 18 year old members. Abwehr reports thirty thousand boys have volunteered when the call came out. If the Waffen-SS is truly on the fence, then this might be the manoeuvrings of Himmler and Heydrich."

Curling his lips back in disgust, Stauffenberg shook his head as Joachim absorbed that the Party was now recruiting old men and child soldiers to fight the inevitable. The amount of dead would now be increased if these rumours held true. Langer's education taught him to distrust and hate the SA; but to shoot children who were every bit as fanatical as he was when he was following their teachings?

"In a word, the situation is untenable. The only time both side pauses is whenever the British bomb us at night and the Americans by day," he said as he relaxed his limb as he looked up to his superior. "Those goddamn aliens had better do something fast because we are being stretched past the breaking point. Manstein is trying to stop a Soviet breakthrough in his sector as we speak. Without the quarians here, helping us, this would be the beginning of the end for all of us."

Although he didn't like what he was being told, Joachim managed to nod, his head turning down as he fumbled for his cigarettes again. It was just as Falan had said yesterday. The Wehrmacht was still technically fractured… They were under the impression they were battling traitors. As for the war criminals in those two opposing air forces, they would be dealt with soon enough, judging by the jet interceptors being produced and landed at this colony.

"You got a call on the wire from a Leutnant Meyer yesterday," the fellow Oberst continued, peaking Joachim's attention up considerably, enough that it delayed his morning cigarette. "I suppose he is with the anti SS-Totenkopfverbände combat units. He said that you had expressed an interest in personally executing the Buchenwald Camp Commandant. They have liberated the camp and are holding him in custody. According to him, they want to present this Hermann Pister as a token of respect and gratitude for your work."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Hoch could not help himself at smiling. Yes, his efforts had earned him hundreds of admirers in the Wehrmacht, who like him, were tasked in liberating the camps across the Reich, tending to the sick and organizing the SS camp guards into forced labour projects, usually dedicated to improving the living conditions of these camps for the prisoners who were displaced and had nowhere else to go.

He had joined Leutnant Alfred Meyer in the liberation of Mauthausen Concentration Camp. He was old, pushing past fifty and had been fighting for Germany since the Great War. He said he had no desire to get to any higher rank. The old man said he didn`t have the youth to handle the bureaucracy of holding a mid-level like Joachim. The age was a concern at first, but it was his sheer hatred for National Socialism motivated Joachim to take a chance with him.

Out of all the people he had come to know in a post Langer family world, Meyer was the person he liked the best. He knew better than most about what was driving him to commit acts of barbarism against the barbarians.

"I'll handle that," Joachim murmured, looking up and back to Stauffenberg, he added. "It should take only three days to get my men to Darmstadt. As I said, Rommel will likely be keeping all my armour, so we shall be travelling relatively light. Keep your guard up."

Joachim closed the feed and stood up. The drugs were now taking effect. It was time to go see what in the hell Rommel had wanted out of him.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Coughing violently as he spat the phlegm from out of his throat, Joachim once again raised his cigarette back to his lips and inhaled as he took a seat in Rommel's forward command headquarters located in Bougie. Rubbing his face he dropped his briefcase onto the floor and pulled off his cap.

He really didn't want to be here. What he wanted to do was to organize his men stationed in Algeria for departure for a part city in northeast Italy, then the long push back into the Fatherland. The only reason he had shown up here was because of how insistent Admiral Falan had been. She was being good to him, so he would return the favour.

"Joachim Hoch," a voice called from behind him as the door closed. "I am happy to see you, although I wish it were under less delicate reasons."

Joachim remained silent as he waited for Generalfeldmarschall Erwin Rommel to take a seat. He was grimy and sand blasted, like he had only just gotten back from his and Heinz Guderian's latest combat missions against this Patton and Bradley. As far as he checked each side was scoring victories against the other side. They were now fighting to a standstill.

"Herr Rommel," Hoch greeted formally. "I was informed you had a favour to ask of me."

Pouring himself a glass of water from a pitcher left by one of his staff, Rommel nodded as he took a drink. He took in Joachim's unregulated look. If he had an opinion, then he sure wasn't willing to expression. It was a dead giveaway that he needed something huge from Hoch if he was willing to ignore it.

"I do," he confirmed. "I actually require your abilities for two tasks. One of a personal nature, the other dedicated to the war. You are a man who possesses two skills I require. You are the man best suited for the tasks."

Hoch crossed his arms as he leaned backwards into his seat.

"And… is this an order?"

Rommel blinked, for the first time he managed a smile for him. It was a thin smile, forced as he looked at the disgruntled and nowhere near respectful subordinate. The only reason the man hadn't lashed out at the disrespect was because he was clearly in need of him.

"Oh yes… yes, yes, yes… Admiral Falan warned me about your attitude," he spoke, his words forced out and tinged with humour. "I realize that you have been moved around in a fashion that is less than moral by a lot of powerful men. This is however, not one of these times. I have summoned you here, yes, but I shall make my requests optional. Believe it or not, I consider you a close enough acquaintance to expand it into a friendship."

Joachim held up his hand.

"With all due respect, Herr Generalfeldmarschall, spare me the friendship run-around," he stated, his words curt. "I don't trust words in the slightest. Just tell me what do you need done, and if you mean it, I will consider it."

Rommel stared at him for a moment before he nodded. He seemed to respect Hoch's mistrust.

"For starters, my personal issue; it is with my son."

Joachim tilted his head as he recommitted himself to listening to what Rommel had to say. This was… well it was not expected. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable broaching this topic with the frank spoken Rommel. Rommel stared right back, as if daring Hoch to say anything.

Well, he didn't. Joachim remained as silent as the grave. Sighing, Rommel stood up.

"Since the death of his Mother, he has blamed me for what had happened. It isn't wrong that he does," Rommel admitted to Joachim, his voice low with regret . "The thing is, he believes our work against the National Socialists is traitorous, that it spits in the face of Adolf Hitler by turning against the Party. I have tried what I can to convince him otherwise, but I have to dedicate my attention to the war. Without my constant presence, I fear for his near future decision making."

Silently Joachim watched as Rommel fell into a state of bitter silence. He was not sure how to feel about this. This seemed far, far too be involved with. Till he could not help but shake the feeling that this was strictly a family matter, and not something that he should be involved with. A proper German family did not air their troubles to others for fixes. They lived with it, or they didn't. It was the reason why Marta Hoch never called the police to intervene when her husband started hitting her.

Okay… so maybe… maybe perhaps there was something unhealthy about compartmentalizing problems to keep outsiders unaware of how much trouble the family was in. It still did not erase how much Joachim hated the thought of getting involved. It reminded him… well… it reminded him of when Lene and Gerald went to emancipate him without bringing him along. Lene's tearful hugging of him when they got home told him that they meddled into a place he didn't want them to get involved in.

"I'm his Father; I know that he doesn't understand full what his obsessions amounts to," Rommel continued, looking down at his laced together hands. "He doesn't take my word that it was Nazi savagery that took the life of his sweet mother. I cannot even begin to explain it…"

Exhaling, the Generalfeldmarschall looked back up and met Joachim's stare.

"But you can, Joachim," he added on, a note of hope in his voice. "I know what happened to you; I know what you were forced to do by the men whom Manfred admires. You know the evils of what his naïve respect has given power to. You were the embodiment of National Socialist ideology, but you broke free and sit here a redeemed man. You could take him for a few days and show him… things. Things I cannot begin to describe. He needs to understand… for his own good, I need you to make him understand."

So that was it. Rommel had wanted to present his boy to Joachim as warning to him about what happened to SS men. Joachim was the horror story meant to frighten him off the idea of service to the Party. He had turned into some sort of case study to point to whenever any of them had so much as a thought of sympathy for their former political leadership.

He wanted nothing to do with this. Let the kid betray his Father, he didn't give a shit about some dumb little kid looking to vent his anger about his Mother's death by spiting on his Father. Fuck all of this. He would say no and he would grab his battalion and head back to the Germany to continue his work. Just as he always intended. Forget what he said about how unhealthy compartmentalizing was!

Joachim looked at Rommel. He appeared completely at Joachim's mercy now. For a moment, a brief moment, his morality kicked back in. I was clear now that all the Generalfeldmarschall was trying to do was be a decent Father. The war had to be his focus, but at least he was willing to try and find his son the help that he needed.

Inwardly, he could hear his brain scream _'fuck you'_ to his conscious.

"How old is the boy?" Joachim muttered dully.

Rommel looked up, wearily looking over the younger man for any signs of doubt. It was clear to him how conflicted Joachim was about this.

"Fifteen, Hoch. He's a volunteer in the anti-aircraft artillery brigades," Rommel spoke carefully, hiding all hope out of his tone. "You do not need to be a tough drill instructor to him. You… just… you show him the truth. Scare him with reality and you will have done him a great service."

Hoch nodded.

"I need a plane and pilot ready in the hour," Joachim said as he exhaled his cigarette. "I'm taking him on a daytrip back to the Fatherland. I have some business to attend to up there as we speak. I could… show him..."

The Generalfeldmarschall's expression lit up into a genuine smile as Joachim finally agreed to assist him in the matter.

"You will do it?" he said rather excitedly. "Done, I'll arrange the flight right now. I shall bring him in now. Have the introductions completed."

Rommel strode across the room, and opened the doorway out to his waiting room, leaving Joachim wondering if he did the right thing. Dropping the half smoked cigarette in top the ashtray, Joachim rubbed his eyes as the drugs started to kick him back into a high gear. One or two more doses today and he would get through today no sweat.

It wasn't long before the door creaked open once again and returning was the Generalfeldmarschall, several steps behind him, a skinny short youth, whom held his eyes to the floor. It was clear that the boy wanted nothing to do with his Father's plans. Sighing, Joachim stood from his seat as Rommel stepped in between the boy and the man.

"Manfred, this is Oberst Joachim Hoch, formerly Standartenführer Hoch of the 2nd SS Panzer Division _Das Reich_ ," the Generalfeldmarschall introduced Joachim to his son. "I have sent you to serve as his assistant on a temporary assignment. Will you accept him to your charge, Oberst?"

Joachim stared hard at the boy. Manfred finally looked up to take in the former SS man curiously, shrinking as he realized how intense the stare he was under. He was soft. He must have taken more from his Mother than his Father. He simply did not look like soldier stock.

"I will, Herr Rommel, so long as you permit me not to treat this boy as soft," Joachim confirmed as he looked back the Generalfeldmarschall, silently waiting for a protest from the man forgetting to be professional the moment his son might have been in trouble.

Well… that never came. It was clear to Joachim and to Manfred that Erwin Rommel was writing Joachim a blank cheque to salvage his boy.

"I permit it. Herr Oberst," Rommel agreed without a note of confliction in his voice. "I'll have a transport planes prepared for your departure... Good luck, son."

Giving them one last look, Rommel left the room, leaving the Oberst alone with the National Socialist sympathizing boy.

The two of them stared at each other. Joachim, a good half a foot taller than Manfred, stepped forward. He remained silent as he looked over the child again. He was not only soft in appearance, he was soft physically. No muscle tone, a little chubby. All in all he was underdeveloped, which made Joachim question if he wanted to be a soldier at all, or if this was just bluster meant to catch Daddies attention.

Once again, he found himself losing the desire to do anything about this. This boy's Father had placed him in the hands of a self-professed monster. Sighing, he put back on the only mask that covered all his doubts and self-revulsion: The mask of the monster people had nightmares about. Once again it served to inspire fear in the boy who did not know any better.

"So… you want to be Waffen-SS…" he said to himself.

Nodding, Manfred started to reply. Before he could, Joachim reached outwards and squeezed the boy's mouth until words could no longer be formed by him.

"Did I give you permission to speak, boy?" Hoch growled at the kid. "Do you understand the meaning of rhetorical question? I do not want to hear a single word from you until I address you. Are we clear?"

Watching the boy nod, Joachim released the grip on him and stepped back,

"Now grab my suitcase," he directed to Rommel. "Don't you dare scuff it. Boy or not, I will knock your ass flat on the floor."

Satisfied that the boy realized that this was not going to be a leisure trip that featured him as a nanny, Joachim turned away, collected his peaked cap and together, they left the office behind.

Manfred Rommel had no idea what was in store for him.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

There was something seriously wrong about Joachim Hoch.

Each passing minute they were together, Manfred Rommel watched as the man seemed to lose his self-control. On the plane ride to Germany, he watched the Oberst down several pills without a hint of subtly to him. He started fidgeting halfway to their destination. By the time they were off the plane, her was having facial tics and was muttering to himself in rather violent sounding English.

The car ride down the final stretch wasn't better; his mutterings in English were growing louder as he took several more pills. It was as though they were bringing out some sort of split personality. Occasionally he looked over to Manfred wild eyed; accusing him was staring at him when it wasn't the case.

As the staff car slowed down as it left the main road and down a back road, Hoch closed his eyes as though centering himself. He did not like Manfred had that they had passed through some rather militaristic looking gates. Like the first gates into a prisoner camp. It became more apparent as they stopped hand allowed a sentry with a Schwerer Panzerspähwagen 232 parked on an angle which blocked much of the road, her turret mounted two centimetre gun aimed low to them. Next to the armoured car, a squad of infantry were building a MG-42 nest. As soon as the papers cleared, they were moving once again.

That was when he first saw it.

There were several lines of thin looking men. They were being issued food, water and clothing to replace the shoddy rags they war. A few of the sicker ones were pulled out of the line by white masked army medics and doctors for inspection. Almost as a collective the emaciated prisoners looked up to the staff car. Still Hoch paid no attention to the masses, but Manfred did. They looked like the walking dead.

What in the hell was this place? He wondered this as an Opel Blitz truck packed full of more prisoners passed them by. It was not long before he got the answer as the car came to a stop.

Looking out the window, Manfred Rommel looked on the two dozen Wehrmacht sentries posted outside. Most of them had turned to stare at the new arrivals. A lurching dulled pain coursed throughout the pit of his stomach as he turned his attention away from the men and to how terribly haunting the facility they were guarding.

He had heard Oberst Hoch call it Buchenwald Concentration Camp when he was speaking to his driver about their destination. From what the youth could gather, it was a prison for those that did not adhere to the German way of life. At least that was what he had thought it would be.

That was no longer the case anymore. The camp or what he could see at least looked so wrong.

Next to him, Hoch pulled on his visor cap, opened the door of the car and stepped outside. Taking a moment to summon his own courage, Manfred followed the Oberst's lead. Three steps behind Hoch at all times as they moved in between the men and supplies that were situated just outside of the ominous gates to the camp. The camp looked like it was able to deflect the warm sunny day that they were having.

Walking down the side path, Hoch and Manfred looked upon a waiting group of men. Junior officers headed by a rather old man considering he was a Leutnant. He stood at attention, but there was still a faint smile that slipped across his expression.

"Leutnant Alfred Meyer, always a pleasure to see you," Hoch said as they exchanged salutes.

The Leutnant named Alfred Meyer nodded; both his men and he followed Hoch as he started walking down the pathway to the house. Something Manfred wished he did not have to do.

"The feeling is mutual, Herr Hoch," he rasped out as he caught up with the Oberst, his voice clearly aged as he tightened his grip on the MP-40 strap wrapped around his shoulder. "The moment we liberated this camp, I knew better than to let the Commandant send the SS away to a POW holding camp. He was mad. I imagine you will have to speak to him."

Hoch huffed, clearly annoyed by the attempted meddling whoever was in charge of this unit was doing.

"Very well then, I'll handle him," Hoch stated casually. "What about the guards and staff?"

"They are working in the quarries or on body removal and burial detail, Herr Hoch; just as your policies have always been," Meyer replied to the younger superior officer. "When you radioed in, I moved Commandant Hermann Pister back to his home with his family. I`m sure they would want to see what you may have in store for him…"

His words made Hoch smile slightly as though he were in total agreement.

Behind him, Manfred could hear footsteps running towards them. The runner, one of the soldiers, almost as young as Manfred pushed in between his platoon mates. In his hands was a spindle of rope he held out to the Oberst, who looked at it before taking it from the soldier.

It took Manfred a fraction of a second to realize what was happening and why he was here. He was here to witness an execution. His eyes grew wide as they met Hoch's who remained emotionless. He appeared to have been challenging the boy to openly question what was being planned out for today.

Manfred, knowing better then to question his superior, clamped shut his mouth and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

"Good work, Meyer. This is Manfred Rommel, Generalfeldmarschall Rommel's son," Hoch spoke, gesturing to the boy. "With the Generalfeldmarschall on the field, he has no time to deal with his son's National Socialism support as well as his dream to serve in the SS."

Meyer inspected Manfred carefully and then he sighed as he shook his head, like a disappointed Father.

"What a shame, Herr Hoch. He seemed like a bright enough lad," he said as he turned back to Hoch. "Herr Rommel does not deserve to have a son this foolishly childish."

Hoch glanced at Manfred, who stared definitely at the menace. He would not be intimidated by him.

"I agree with," Oberst Hoch conceeded with the Leutnant gravely. "With all the good his Father has done, I think we should do a favour and help Herr Rommel out. See if we can help young Manfred see the errors in his judgment. Do you think we are up to the challenge?"

Leutant Meyer's expression contorted into an expression of mock outrage.

"Herr Hoch!" he exclaimed, cuffing his superior officer on his arm. "I am almost offended you would suggest that we weren't!"

The two men shared a laugh at Manfred's expense. Both men slapped their hands onto his shoulders and shoved him hard into the open doorway, where to the sentries were standing at attention. Looking back mutinously, Manfred stood up and brushed himself off, only to be shoved aside by Hoch as he lumbered into the house and immediately headed up the flight of chairs to where he could hear talking echoing from.

Humiliated, Manfred followed him and the Leutnant. It's not as though he had any choice in the matter. God knows what Hoch would do if he told him that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with what was about to happen.

As soon as he reached the top steps he came to a pause. Standing there was Hoch, staring down the occupants as the platoon moved past him to secure the room.

"Hello again, Herr Pister," Hoch addressed the man in the centre.

The four words spoken by the Oberst sent a shiver down Manfred's spine. It was low, menacing like an apex predator looking on a future meal. The last of Hoch's humanity had vanished.

A woman, presumably the Commandant's wife approached Hoch. It was her first mistake, her second was to clutch onto his uniform and beg on behalf of her husband. A sudden and violent sounding smack across the face was all that she had earned from Hoch.

As she crumpled, her husband attempted to lunge at him; he was intercepted by the guard and was pulled back to where he was standing. Hoch remained motionless as he stared down Pister.

The wife slunk off, sobbing as she went to see her children, bleeding from her nose. Once again the old Commandant struggled against the voce grip of the soldier holding him. It took a few moments before Manfred realized the guard wasn't there to keep Hoch safe, he was there to protect Pister from Hoch, who probably had something more brutal than a hanging in mind.

Smiling grimly, Hoch dropped the rope in front of Pister. Pister looked down and took in the means of his demise.

"You… I remember _you_ ," Pister breathed as he looked up to the taller Oberst, his eyes wide as he added. "Hoch isn't it? You showed up here a few months ago…"

Hoch stepped forward, over the rope as he closed the gap between the old man and him. His expression was blank as he examined the Commandant of Buchenwald.

"Good, there will be no need for a reintroduction then. Instead I can get right to the point," Hoch spoke, only inches from Pister's face. "Today is the day of your death. I am here to personally carry out your sentence."

Hoch turned away and grabbed the rope once again and walked towards the window. Seeing an exposed beam near the window, Hoch swung one end of the rope over the top and caught it on the back down. Silently he went to work tying the knot as he ignored the crying coming from Pister's family. Manfred watched as the soldiers watched him with uninhibited glee. They came here knowing that Hoch was going to do this. To them this was a game.

Pister started sputtering out. He had no idea what to do or say in light of his imminent execution. Whatever he had done, he clearly believed he hadn't done anything in the wrong.

"I would not try to argue what is about to happen, Herr Pister," Hoch said as he continued to strengthen the knot he tied around the support beam. "The moment I was informed of your capture, you have been dead. Today, I'm, just here to make it official. You're a bureaucrat, I'm sure you know the hassles of double checking your work before you file a final report."

The soldiers laughed mockingly at Pister, who struggled once more to no avail against the soldier holding him back. Near him his wife sobbed, she moved to him and gripped onto his dishevelled jacket in a vain attempt to find comfort in him. Whispering encouraging words to her and kissing her forehead, Pister wiped the tears in his eyes off his wife's dress sleeve. He looked up, angry and ready to attack Hoch again.

"If you're here to kill me, then I demand you take me back to wherever you hold prisoners!" The Commandant cried out as the Oberst went to worked making a noose. "If you think I have done something wrong then I demand a trial be conducted. I demand my right to face my accuser! If you want a moral victory, then you will do this. Otherwise you will just be another hypocrite, dispensing victor's justice!"

Hoch turned back, the expression on his face was livid. It was clear that he could stand no more of is dribble.

"You are facing your accuser," Hoch hissed like a serpent, his teeth gritted. "You are also facing your jury, your judge, prosecutor and ultimately, your executioner."

Hoch's statement silenced Pister. Striding back over, Hoch placed himself once again in front of the SS Commandant.

"You see, I am not looking for a great moral victory over you; and to be honest with you, I can probably count on both my hands the amount of Party members that will be trialed before the world, should they survive to see the final collapse of National Socialism," Hoch said as he watched the old man grow steadily paler with each passing second. "The rest, you middle levelled men face near summary execution as per Directive 1 issued by the Wehrmacht Provisional Government on the first of March: Members in the Allgemeine-SS and the SS-Totenkopfverbände who resists arrests or calls of surrenders shall be declared illegal combatants and subject to the local commander's justice should an execution be warranted. I am the local commander. I am calling for your immediate execution; therefore I shall get what I came a thousand miles away for."

Next to Manfred, an elbow hit him hard enough to bring him out of his horrified stupor. It was Meyer, smirking as he leaned closer to the youth's ear.

 _"I love watching this guy work; he's absolutely insane,"_ he whispered to Manfred. He stood up straighter as Hoch turned his attention away from Pister and back to Manfred and the Leutnant.

"Leutnant, take my assistant outside," Hoch ordered. He gestured to the window opposite to the swinging rope, adding. "Situate him outside of this window."

The Leutnant nodded and placing his hand on Manfred's shoulder, turned the around and led him down to the exit. The two of them were followed by half the soldiers that went with them, the other half stayed to assist Hoch in his execution preparations, namely keeping his target under his control.

If Father only knew what Hoch was doing, he would put a stop to it. He would tell Father, he would see to this psychopath's demotion. How could Father not see how deranged he was? Now he was expected to watch a killing?

"Come on kid, you're in for a real treat," the man named Meyer said, grinning to the boy. "My God, you would not believe the stories about what he did to half the guards in Mauthausen concentration camp."

The moment he mentioned Mauthausen, the Wehrmacht men moving with them seemed to give off a collective shiver.

"I swear to God, Hoch had to have been a reincarnation of one of those Catholic inquisitors in Spain all those centuries ago," one soldier muttered as they situated themselves next to Meyer and Manfred, who were now standing outside of the window Hoch had ordered them to stand by.

 _"-I wasn`t there, but I heard he threw at least thirty of them into the 380 volt electric barbed wire fence."_

 _"-I heard he ordered a demonstration of the gas chambers for his superiors, he packed those SS-Totenkopfverbände fuckers tight into the room."_

 _"-I heard he was the one who dropped the Zyklon-B canisters in himself."_

 _"-Buried alive. Damn would that be impressive if that was what he did!"_

Next to the horrified Manfred, a chuckle erupted from Alfred Meyer.

"Don`t mind them kid, they're just spitting out rumours," he assured the youth. "All we know for sure was that he captured about five hundred of them in the Mauthausen liberation. He sent us off to collect food and supplies from the locals. With his own men, they separated the camp guards in two groups. One stayed behind as labour, the others… well... they simply vanished. No one has seen or heard from them. None of the men under Hoch are talking. They just vanished into thin air...

The shattering of glass and screams cut the chatter off. Pister fell from the window, emitting a blood curdling scream as he fell and hit the side of the house. The rope tightened as Pister's body hit the side of the house. The commandant of Buchenwald screamed as the shards of glass cut into him, as his eyes, nose and mouth bled uncontrollably.

Manfred's eyes travelled up to the rope itself, it wasn't a hangman's noose. It all wrong; Joachim Hoch had no intention on ending his life in the ordinarily humane fashion that was a hanging. He was prolonging the end for Pister… what a sick bastard this Oberst was. The man emitted a gargling scream as his hand reached out towards Manfred and the others in a desperate cry for help. Cringing, Manfred looked away.

A figure popped his head out of the window. It was Joachim Hoch, looking from the dying man below them, to the disgusted and turning away Manfred, Hoch's expression contorted into a look of rage.

 **"** _ **Make him watch, Leutnant! I want him to watch Pister struggle!"**_ The giant screamed down to Meyer and Manfred.

The Leutnant obeyed and shook Manfred back into a state of alertness, his hand gripping the top of his mess of hair as he forced the youth to face Pister as continued to gurgle out a futile scream.

 _"You boy, you will watch this!"_ Hoch continued to scream like a maniac. _"This is all which National Socialism will provide you with: That is_ _ **death**_ _! Does service to the Party look glamorous now? Look around you boy. This camp is not even the worst of the many that have been built! Death is the only tangible by-product Hitler and his goons have provided for the rest of us! My family, your mother and hundreds upon thousands of families have been torn apart by them –and those were just the families that supported the Reich, let alone the millions that hadn't!"_

Manfred had no words to refute anything the lunatic was saying. Instead he watched in horror as Pister's hand managed to gesture to him. He begged for the boy to untie the improperly tied knot around his neck.

 _"Now watch him die, you little Cretin! You watch and you learn!"_ Hoch shrieked on. _"The National Socialist feeds on the misery and suffering of others. Now we shall feed them their_ _ **own**_ _!"_

As soon as he said it, Hoch left the window, leaving Manfred in a state of numbed shock. He turned back to Pister, who was out rasping his final breathe. Trying his hardest, but failing, Manfred gave out a small moan as he felt himself go faint. Before he could collapse, he felt Meyer's rough hands wrap around the back of his neck, keeping the youth in place.

The front door opened and then slammed shut as screaming and crying emitted from out of the broken window. Joining the cadre of soldiers was Oberst Hoch and his helpers. Hoch appeared grim faced as he stomped his way over to the spectators. There was no expression of humanity in his features. It looked as though he was only pretending to be a human.

Ignoring the congratulatory words given to him by several of the soldiers, Hoch stopped in front of the ill looking Manfred, at long last blocking the sight of the swinging corpse for the boy. Grimly satisfied, Joachim's glassy-eyes, unfettered from any trace of sympathy turned to Meyer.

"Leutnant, I have a few things I need to attend to… private matters, you see," The former Waffen-SS man rumbled to the older man. "Could you kindly give the boy a shovel and take him to where your commandant has put the SS men to work? I think six hours of moving and burying dead Jews will set him straight about the SS."

Manfred went pale faced as he helplessly looked to Meyer to interfere. Yet again, Meyer was unwilling to help.

"By Christ I think it will set him straight, Herr Hoch," Meyer complimented.

Nodding in concurrence, Hoch turned away and wandered down the pathway towards the camp, Leaving Manfred a sobbing mess as he was led away for burial detail.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

The plane ride back to Bougie was silent.

Manfred Rommel had slept most of the flight. He was exhausted after Joachim had decided six hours of moving and burying the dead victims of Buchenwald hadn't been enough and extended it to twelve hours. He was now grimy, covered in dirt and smelling like rotten corpses. The boy would never forget the smell.

Joachim, on the other hand, was smoking and drinking casually from his flask filled with alcohol. His thoughts were filled with the Pister killing.

 _"Bf-109 escorts are breaking off, Herr Oberst, we're ten minutes out."_

Joachim replied to the pilot by taking another swig from his flask. He looked back down and found Manfred Rommel rolling his head over to look at him. Smiling for nauseated youth, he offered him a drink. Manfred clinched his lips and shook his head.

"I want to thank you, boy," Joachim spoke up as he took one more drink before tucking the flask away and went to find his cigarettes. "You taught me something today."

The boy looked at him, weary at what Joachim had to say. Offering his cigarettes next, only to be again turned away, Hoch lit up and leaned back into the plane's siding.

"I think I have finally understood the national characteristic that many mock us for having," he spoke once again, smoke billowing from his mouth. "The willingness to follow what someone who is older, or perhaps holds a higher rank then you says to the letter, without objecting, without publicly questioning the decision making."

Manfred blinked.

"You saw something today that was morally reprehensible. You saw me beat an old woman's face in in front of her husband, you saw tie a noose that would prolong the suffering that son of a bitch endured, you could have convinced me to remove the family from the presence of the hanging; you could have spared yourself watching Pister die like that if you asked," Joachim listed off casually, as he smoked. "You could have convinced me to have given him a clean death if you simply tried… But you didn't."

Joachim went silent, watching as the boy started shaking with a furious anger for the Oberst.

 **"You didn't you tell me that!"** Manfred screamed at the older man. _**"Why didn't you tell me that!?"**_

Joachim ignored the anger as he inhaled again. The boy was furiously. Rightfully so, but that had been the point. He wanted the boy angry and disgusted with him. This as the only reason he agreed to it. He thought that the boy would be different than the others. That a Father like Erwin Rommel would instil in him a sense of right and wrong. Being fifteen was not a sufficient enough of an excuse for not speaking out.

"No, I did not tell you, boy. I wanted to see if you would act against instinct and commit to the right route on your own," he explained as dropped his cigarette and stamped it. "You didn't. You were worried more about my reaction. You were worried about what I might do to you rather then what would happen to Pister. You were a coward in the face of potential personal punishment."

Manfred looked just about ready to explode. Had the transport plane not been taxiing down the landing strip, he would have most likely launched himself at Hoch.

"You're hardly an original, so don't feel too terribly for this," Joachim assured the boy. "I spent two years of indoctrination in SS-Junkerschule Bad Tölz. The core criterion of the school was to think exactly in the way that you acted today. Do not question your superiors, do not question the Party, and never question the State. Personal power is paid through loyalty. This is the subtle maxim that each of the three branches of the SS share."

Manfred looked faint.

"Did you…" he tried to start. "Did you…"

"Commit atrocities for others?" He finished for the youth. "I never had to. I had several superior officers who kept his eyes full tilt on the enemy. Whatever happened behind the lines were not of my concern, I knew something, probably, but it was not in my place to judge."

Joachim paused, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hypothetically, however, if I was ordered to do something a year ago…" Joachim continued, reluctant, but knowing better then to hold back. "I think I would have probably obeyed it… _hell_ … I probably would have found a trace of pride in it. Doing the Party's work... It felt good to matter…"

Hoch trailed off for a moment to enjoy his cigarette.

"In spite of everything I have seen and stopped, I… do not feel different about the Jew. The Jewish people are an enemy of Germany, and must be removed from all trace of life," Hoch continued, smoke billowing out of his mouth. "They do not belong here… but killing them… It's their victory, not ours… They will get to wave their victimhood to the eyes of the entire world… it will linger over us for a very long time."

Hoch fell silent, after several moments, he turned to look at the boy. Manfred was stunned at the confession. He must have believed he would be a denier. Joachim wasn't. He knew the psyche of how he operated. He knew that he was taught to switch off his own humanity for the good of the Party. He was not going to deny that he was taught to be a killer. The only difference between Pister and he had been the branches they served in, and he was called before Joachim…

"Count yourself lucky to have a Father who gave enough of a damn to take the time to subject you to me," he spoke again, breaking the silence. "He knew the evils you were wandering to, but he also knew that I would be a far more effective lesson in a day with me, then years of lectures from him. Killing Pister was simply the details. The real lesson he wanted to expose you to, was _me_."

The boy looked up, staring curiously at the grim grin planted on Joachim's face.

"I am the by-product of Nazism once they have used and thrown away," Joachim continued for the boy. "In the eyes of the SS, growing a conscious and doing the right thing for Germany warranted an oak tree covered in swinging little children and their mother. It warranted not only deaths in my family, but yours as well."

For the first time, the boy seemed to understand. Joachim doubted that all his loyalties to the system that educated him since he was a child was gone, but now he appeared to at least understand that true scarring that he and the rest of his generation would have from Party ran schools, Party doctrine boys clubs and the near constant propaganda they were subscribed to over the years.

"You're not a National Socialist anymore," the youth voiced out, paler than ever. "I mean… after what you did today, it's kind of clear…"

Joachim could not help but chuckle.

"Manfred, National Socialism is like having a recurring disease," he said as he stood from his seat. "No matter how long I keep it buried, no matter how many men I will kill who have shared similar views. It is still going to get out once and a while and it will remind the world what I really look like. I will forever be a National Socialist., whether I want to or not. I shall battle it for the rest of my life, but I hold no illusions. I will be forever tainted. "

They went silent as the Luftwaffe pilot and his navigator came out of cockpit. Together they opened the door and kicked down the ladder. Saluting the Oberst, they left the plane, leaving Joachim and Manfred alone. Gathering his cap and briefcase, Joachim turned to leave the plane next.

He was almost out when he paused at the doorway and turned around.

"Do you know what _sickest_ part is?" he spoke again, his words filled with self-loathing. "It was completely voluntarily on my part. God help me, I actually wanted to be this once."

Exhaling silently, Joachim left Manfred to think over today's lessons.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, angst extermination (HOW DID THIS HAPPEN TO MEEE), section deleted**


	5. Back to the Frontless Front

**Chapter Five: Back to the Frontless Front**

 **…**

The screeching of the steel door brought Flight Lieutenant Dalad'Voar back to a state of alertness.

He didn't how long exactly he had been held by these humans. It was long enough to have him adapt to the environment. It was long enough that Otto Skorzeny's friendly demeanour of his rescuer had changed to that of an angered interrogator. Every day was worse than the last.

Skorzeny had one thing and one thing only on his mind -convincing the quarian shuttle pilot to ferry him and a team back to the fleet. Whatever their intentions, it would not be good for the fleet. As far as he could tell from his briefings, these were the Nazis his leaders were fighting against. So he remained silent. He remained silent through the beatings, through the prolonged starvations. He made not one noise other than when pain was introduced to him.

Boots came closer, making the pilot look to the entrance wearily..

The human wasn't Skorzeny like he thought it would be. He was shorter, more along the size of Dalad, rather than the brutish Skorzeny. He stood there, a tray of rations for the Flight Lieutenant to eat. Through his bruised eyes, he could see that this human was looking on him differently. He did not seem relish in the violence dished out by Otto Skorzeny; if anything he appeared genuinely disgusted.

Slowly the human stepped forward, biting his lip as he set down Dalad's rations on the table and then knelt down to Dalad's level, his eyes wandering over the quarian's busted face.

"That gash looks terrible, let me clean that up," the human said to him.

The Flight Lieutenant flinched backwards at the touch. The human raised his hands up, showing the dry cloth in his hand to him. Dalad stared at him wearily. He did not trust humans, not even the only one who was showing him a kindness. The human ignored the reaction and continued dabbing away at the facial wounds left by a pistol whipping he took a day ago.

The human straightened, his hand applying pressure to the wound inflicted upon the quarian. He pulled the cloth off his head as the door opened and a lower ranking soldier walked in with a chair for him and left without a word. The man took at the table opposite to him, one leg crossing over the other.

"My name is Adrian von Fölkersam," he introduced himself. "I have been assigned to you from now on. I convinced Skorzeny to leave you alone for now."

Dalad remained dead silent. He refused to look at anything or anyone other than the wall behind the human named Adrian, who had pulled off his cap and laced his many fingers together. There was no change in his inquisitive, yet sympathetic expression.

"I'm sorry that this has happened to you," the human went on. "Physical interrogations are crude, too violent. It shows a lack of patience and skill. The best interrogators never use their fists, let alone raise their voice."

Dalad remained firmly silent. The human did not push the subject; he leaned back and pulled a cigarette out to smoke. He lit up, inhaling and then turning his head to politely blow smoke out of Dalad's direction. The human leaned back and smiled reassuringly to the battered quarian. As soon as the smile appeared, it vanished again.

"This might come as a surprise, but you and I are in similar situations, except that Skorzeny isn't using his physical assaults against me," the Human spoke quietly.

Dalad looked up at the statement.

The man named Fölkersam reached into his pocket and produced a photograph, a black and white still. Dalad glanced at it, it was that of a young mother clutching a child he wasn't sure about the gender was. Dalad glanced up and noticed how longingly the human was looking at the photo.

"I'm a part of the Abwehr, that is to say I am aligned with _your_ superiors," he informed the quarian, his words filled with great regret. "I don't want to be here, and I do not want you here either… But Skorzeny is holding my family as hostages. They will kill my wife and my daughter if I do not help them out by making you see reason. If you hold out… if you resist, then I become a liability, then they kill my family…"

The human trailed off, his expression was filled with dread like this was the first time he had the courage to admit it out loud. Dalad didn't know what to think, all he knew for certain was how unlikely Otto Skorzeny would murder a child and a woman. He had an air about him, like he thought he was above that.

"Skorzeny doesn't seem like the type," He mumbled for the first time to the human.

The human chuckled grimly.

"No, he's not, but his boss is," The human named Adrian replied, staring hard at the Flight Lieutenant. "The last human that directly stood against him had his family swinging from a tree only minutes after he betrayed them. He even forced this so-called traitor's own friends to turn against him and force the traitor to kill them. They killed one of your Admiral's brother and sister-in-law to drive the point. You should know, you were there at the Museum. That whole debacle spawned from their desire for a terrifying revenge. These are the men you and I now serve."

 _"I don't serve them!"_ he shrieked at the human.

The human could only chuckle.

"Keep telling yourself that, Flight Lieutenant. These men we are in the hands of? They have lost all rationality and will butcher the two of us - not enough to kill us, mind you - but just enough to keep us breathing," Adrian informed Dalad, his voice dead of emotion. "The moment your family steps off your fleet they'll be found and hung from a tree like what happened to the other good doer… It's just how these men operate: Maximum… maximum suffering, minimum effort on their part…"

The human pulled the picture from the table and stared at the image of his wife and child before slipping it back into his pocket. Exhaling unsteadily, he crossed his fingers together and rested his hands on the table. His expression was a pleading one, an expression that barely registered in Dalad. He was in a state of shock.

He could not believe this. He could not believe what the human was saying to him. Did humans have the capacity to act in such a cruel way? It seemed so fundamentally wrong. He wanted to believe his briefings, that humans were a well-adjusted people. Here they were killing each other in droves and were now turning their attention to his family!

The human slid back his chair, stood up and formed a fist which he banged on the table top. In a matter of a few seconds, the guard returned to his side and removed the interrogator's seat. He remained silent until the door was clamped shut once again. Looking back nervously, he removed a set of metal keys and slipped them into Dalad's handcuffs, unlocking the iron off his wrists.

"Eat up… I'll have to put these back on in a couple hours. As I said, Skorzeny is ending his interrogations of you..." he spoke, pulling his officer cap over his head. "I suppose he figured beating you would soften you up. You and I know differently, so I have two weeks to convince you to help us free the Führer."

 _The Führer_? Who in the hell was that? He did not explain himself as the human stood up to leave the room. He paused as he reached the door and looked down on the quarian with pitying eyes.

"I beg you now, do not fight me when I begin tomorrow, talk and you will end our mutual suffering," The Abwehr agent requested of Dalad. "Every day you resist…" He paused, adding. "Well, I have a family to think about… I'm warning you right now that it's going to get very bad soon between us. I can do things that make Skorzeny's beatings look tame. For my family, I will do all I have to do to save them."

Staring at the quarian for a moment longer, Adrian left, leaving Dalad fearful of tomorrow.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

As it turned out, the second thing Rommel had requested was by far more painful to Hoch then taking his brat kid to witness the death done in the name of National Socialist ideology. At the end of the day, Rommel sat him down and told him that he could have his men and their personal weapons and not their heavy equipment, or he could go back to the Reich empty handed.

It took all Joachim's effort not to hit the bastard, but he accomplished the feat. Seething, Hoch issued the disarmament order to the head of the Battalion, Joachim Peiper. To say Peiper was not pleased was an understatement. The idea of heading back to Germany with anything less than a fully armed armoured troop battalion was a nightmare. It was a sentiment, Hoch could agree with.

 _"-She likes an extra quart of oil every other day -keeps her purring."_

 _"Understood."_

Joachim turned as he heard the familiar voice. It was Hertzer, and likely his crew as well. He turned and went down in their direction.

 _"-Be careful, sometimes her brake gets stuck when you're moving on a downward angle."_

 _"Ahhhh… alright then."_

 _"-Oh, and make sure you replace her steel reinforcement plating every so often! She has rather large cracks in her front armour. Try to keep her firing on an angle just in case."_

 _"This thing is a death trap! What in the hell did we do to deserve this piece of shit?"_

 _"Don't look at me, Herr Leutnant,"_ another voice spoke. _"I requested a Panther for us."_

A scuffle suddenly brought out, but it quickly ended.

"Never mind him, Leutnant, Feldwebel," a second familiar voice called out. It was Helmut Mann, apologizing on behalf of Hertzer, who looked lose to fighting the offender of Sigrid II. "The sun has addled his brains… well the snow did it first, but all in all he's mental…"

The conversation went silent as Hoch stopped in front of them. He waited until the new crew of the Tiger climbed into the armoured vehicle. Roaring the engine to life, they watched as it pulled off the docks and back to the front. The gathering, including Mann's old platoon members, Oster, Hammer and Bohr, as well as Bohr's human tumour, the Ukrainian girl, still playing soldier, though far less of a skeleton than before. The men and woman turned to face the Oberst and went to a state of attention.

The only one not impressed by his presence was Hertzer, who broke free of his Tiger crew's grip, pushed through the Stalingrad survivors and stood face to face with Hoch.

"They're taking Sigrid away from me, Hoch, what in the hell is going on?!" Hertzer complained furiously.

Staring at the eccentric Panzer commander for a moment longer, Joachim turned away.

"Shut up and get on the ship," was all he had to order them.

Since and each and every last one of them knew better then to cause an argument with someone like Joachim, they forgot all about the loss of Sigrid II and moved towards the transport ship. Quietly their Commandant trailed behind them.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The moment they returned to the _Bismarck_ , Hanala found herself having to carry Saleb, who fell fast asleep on the shuttle ride from the _Kareon_.

Human children were apparently far, far too energetic for quarian children to handle. Of course it didn't help that Saleb was surrounded by the four of the six Goebbels children, each of them abnormally playful the moment Hanala spent the day distracting their Mother so much so that she loosened her leash on them. The two eldest daughters, Helga and Hildegard stayed far away from the quarians, both of them old enough to fully comprehend what was happening, both of them still filled with grief for witnessing their Father's deaths.

The other children, too young to understand, saw Saleb as just another playmate. Before poor Saleb knew it she was in the middle of human child games, games that did not involve electronic toys, yet still she had fun. It was Joachim and her. His lack of digital connection taught Hanala to pause and find joy in simple things… Although to be fair, half the things Germans loved to do involve getting seriously drunk; something about the hard working mentality that gave them the excuse.

In her wildest of hopes, Hanala wished this display between the Goebbels children and Saleb would be how humanity would react when they finally made worldwide contact. It would very likely not be the case. They would have their work cut out for them when they arrived. Ancestors knew how long it would take before they were accepted. Most likely not within her lifetime, humans had problems accepting each other, how in the hell could they accept them?

Hanala sighed as she laid her niece down in her bed, covering her in her blanket; she sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers brushing through the child's bangs. Oh Ancestors, she would have paid any price to not have to be this girl's guardian. She wasn't fit to properly see danger. If she had, Saleb's parents would have still been around. They didn't deserve what happened to them –she deserved it!

Feeling sick, she stood up and left the room and slumped against the door. She needed to get good and drunk. She needed to wipe the guilt and the lingering fear for the only person on Earth she gave a damn about. She could not name him, but her concerns for him only intensified the guilt she felt.

AS she wandered down the corridor to the Captain's lounge, she jumped as she found someone sitting in her lounge, waiting for her. She nearly went into a combat stance until she realized who it was.

" _Father_?"

Although he looked up, Father did not speak to her. Instead he simply slid over onto the other end of the couch and patted the spot he moved from. As she obliged her Father, she watched as he poured her a generous helping of a fine looking, asari made dextro whiskey –something that Father had never once done before for her. He himself rarely touched anything stronger than a carbonated drink.

Hanala sat down, her hands laced together as she looked between the drink, and her Father staring ahead at the opposite end of the lounge, drinking without a flinch, like it was an old habit to him long ago. He downed the contents and set the glass back down.

"I wanted to apologize for not taking the time to talk to you lately," he said as Hanala reached down and took the drink off the table. "I've been so focused on preparing the people to understand what little human behaviour and the planet we know beyond our satellite mapping."

Father sighed and leaned back against the couch, turning his body slightly so that he could look at his child. Hanala, suddenly self-conscious about both her facial scarring and the fact she was drinking, set the glass into her lap and turned her head in a vain attempt to shield his wandering eyes to her injuries.

"In truth, I didn't want to talk to you about it," Father pressed on, his tone warm and open, a rarity for the usually brisk and objective man. "You have an incredible gift for resilience in the face of great personal struggle. This has been the case since you were born. Through a sickness you likely could have died from as a small child, through prejudice for being a disallowed birth, and even the absurd assumption that you had life easier than most because of your Mother and I's social standing."

Father shook his head and leaned over to pour himself another drinking, pausing, he refreshed Hanala's drink. As Hanala did a double take at her Father's liberal pouring, Father rolled his eyes.

"For Ancestors sake, Hanala you're 24 years old," he reminded her exhaustedly as he sipped his drink. "You can drink in front of your Father now."

Hanala laughed and nodded as together, they drank together in silence. As he finished his second glass, Father set the glass down and, without warning or permission, pressed his hand on her scarred face. Hanala recoiled for a fraction of a second as she looked to her Father fearfully.

Seeing no revulsion, just an infinite understanding in her Father's eyes, Hanala relaxed slightly.

"I think the most incredible part of your resilience has been that not once did you complain or cry foul to your Mother and I," Father continued, speaking in barely more than a whisper. "You did not talk about things like having element zero birth defects; you even smiled as everyone heaped so much love for your Brother, and cast you as some sort of hanger on, a mistake not worth noting."

Hanala laughed out loud despite herself being in such a terrible mood.

"Believe me; I wanted to complain _so_ bad, Father," she admitted to him, her statement making Father laugh out loud.

"I know you did, Hanala. You wouldn't have been quarian if you hadn't. That's what made us so proud of you. Still proud," he said as his laughter died down. "By rights given to you by a weak heart, you could have lived a very easy life, but you didn't. Your Grandmother told us not to do that, but it was you who committed to it before we could act."

Father fell silent.

"So now… with all that has happened… I realized months too late that my exceptionally tough girl has reached her own breaking point," he continued on for her. "After everything you saw… Ancestors forgive me, I am so sorry it took so long to understand..."

Hanala's lips twitched lightly as she lowered her whiskey glass. She could not meet her Father's expression of concern for his last remaining child. Her head ducked further as he placed his hand onto her back. She exhaled unsteadily as Father's hand moved in a slow counter clockwise circle.

"You do know that not once do I or your Mother blame you for what happened, do you?" Father spoke evenly to her.

Blinking the sudden welling of tears in her eyes, she looked up to her Father for reassurance. Something he gave to her in the form of a small, sad smile.

"You had a good plan, a good way to pull the team out without suspicions raised," he reaffirmed his faith in his daughter. "The thing is, coups are like wildfires, one moment it's moving to your favour, the next it's coming after you and you cannot escape it. These National Socialists… this _Heydrich_ … we underestimated them on our watch, not yours. We thought the regime could be reasoned with, but there is no reasoning with men like these."

Sniffling, Hanala shook her head.

"They knew before the abduction happened… like they expected it around the time we started plotting against them," Hanala told her faith, her voice cracking. "I saw Gerald… and… and that smile just told me something was off about him, but I _trusted_ him with Veyare because… because he _trusted_ Gerald, like I trust _you_. A lot of good, innocent people died because of how stupid and naïve I was. I've made a lot more children than Saleb Motherless or Father-"

Hanala was cut off from her train of thought as Father wrapped his arms around his daughter, pulling her into a tight hug. Hanala remained as still as a corpse. She wanted to react, to hug him back, but she simply could not.

"Hanala… you can't see the future. You could do nothing to stop that; what happened with Langer was utterly unforeseeable, especially if you considered him a friend, and I doubt he had a choice in what he did," Father breathed reassuringly. "You said it yourself that they turned their own guns on some of their own best and brightest without a second thought. You cannot blame yourself for their madness. Finding reason in insanity is not something you can do overnight."

They went silent again as Hanala dried her eyes. She felt so ashamed to be seen in a moment of weakness. Perhaps her Father was right; there was nothing she could have done. Perhaps there was never an alternative to what happened that day. Everyone died, and there was nothing she could do about it and no matter how many he killed, it would not erase what he went through as well.

 _"Do you love him?"_

The question was random. Hanala looked up to her Father through her blurry eyes. All she could do was nod.

"I do, Father," she found her words. "I _really_ do."

Father looked at her for a moment and then nodded. He turned away and fell silent again. Slowly, he exhaled.

"One of these days, he's going to come back to the fleet, or perhaps you will seek him out, but it's more likely he's going to search you out," he spoke to Hanala as though he could predict the future. "He's going to pull you aside and he's going to tell you that he doesn't love you anymore. That he likely never loved you."

Hanala launched herself off her couch and turned around to glare down her Father in a fashion not unlike her Mother. Before she spit a whole list of denials, he held up his hand.

"Please, hear me out," he requested politely, unperturbed by the shift in his daughter's mood.

Fuming at what she was hearing, Hanala sat down on the table, unscrewing the bottle of whiskey and taking a rather large gulp. She sat the bottle down and pouted at her Father. Father reached out and took her hands, squeezing them carefully.

"He's going to say everything and anything to convince you that you were better off without him in his life. If you love him, if you really love him, you will not let him win this argument," Father continued on, his expression back to one of professionalism. "You will listen to what he says and when he's done, and only when he's done, you tell him that you don't believe him. That you love him, that you will provide him with all the help or the space he needs. You will not pressure him into anything, but you will be there when he needs it."

Father paused for a moment.

"Then you will walk away and not contact him until he comes to you again, this time looking for the help he needs."

Hanala stared at her Father blankly.

"That's… that's _insanity_!" She cried out. "I mean, what if he decides to stand by his original position and choose not to contact me again?!"

Father shrugged a little too causally for her liking.

"Then that must be respected," was his response. "It will be hard, but for your sake, and for Saleb's you _must_ move on."

Hanala shook her head. No way was this being discussed.

"No, I will not do that. You don't know humans like I do. They're stubborn to a fault when they get an idea in their heads, Joachim more so!" she nearly screeched hysterically. "I explained to him the various biological evidence behind sexual orientation and he laughed at me for _'making up excuses for personal deviancy'_ , like I was the crazy one! –meanwhile he's…"

She trailed off, shaking her head defiantly. She ignored her Father as he wrapped his hand around her bicep.

"I'm not telling you this to make your life worse, daughter," he informed her, a little sterner then before. "I'm speaking out of experience, because Joachim Hoch and I more alike than I would care to admit."

His name being spoken for the first time between them, Hanala looked up to stare at her Father in the eyes; more alike? Hanala had very much doubted that Father liked Joachim from the moment they met.

"Your Mother and I…" He started before trailing off. "Well, we didn't have a stable relationship in the beginning of our marriage. Your Mother and I were close to divorcing shortly after the failed first attack on the geth."

Hanala blinked, horrified at the sudden and gut wrenching revelation her Father and Mother had apparently kept a secret for all these years. They were going to terminate their marriage?! Hanala's stares made her Father lower his head in a small display of shame.

"I… I lost myself. Like you, like Joachim, I blamed so many deaths on myself. Your Mother and… and Rael could not get through to me when I returned home," he admitted to his stunned to silence daughter. "Eventually I told your Mother how I felt and she listened to me going off at her with the patience of an elcor, and when I was gone, she told me that she did not believe that I had stopped loving her."

"I cannot believe she would do that," Hanala murmured.

Her father laughed softly.

"Oh… She called me many awful names," he pressed on. "But she said she loved me and would stay out of my way as I got over what happened, or until she was permitted by me to get the help I needed. It took a lot of effort by both of us, but it worked."

Still unable to fathom what this meant, Hanala bite her lip as she inched closer as she took his hand.

"That was different Father," Hanala spoke carefully. "You were married, you had Rael. Joachim and I… we're very different."

Father inclined his head.

"It's a different situation, yes, but the players and the emotions are the same," he returned. "A shell shocked soldier spiralling out of control, a headstrong young woman with her grief and regrets, with commitments to others that have to come first… It's different, yet it's the same."

Hanala smiled wistfully.

"It sounds like you _like_ him. Watching out for Joachim and I like this…" she gently teased him.

Father was not amused.

 _"Like him?"_ he repeated disbelievingly. "I sympathize with his state, I get where he is coming from, but he's _dangerous_ , and not in the way that might seem mysterious in the attractive sense to a young woman like you, which I assume is why you fell for him in the first place,"

Father reverted to silence as he shook his head at the sight of his daughter now suddenly coy. Realizing his daughter was a walking cliché, he sighed.

"What I'm saying is that he's literally dangerous, and in his state now even more so," He elaborated to Hanala as she poured herself another drink. "He now spends his entire spare time killing deplorable men, but he does not see that he is turning into an animal himself –falling to their level - I'm concerned about what he is becoming, because I don't want him anywhere close to either you or my granddaughter. I know you're tough but… I can't shake that fear… and I know he hit you once, so there is precedence."

He fell silent as he watched Hanala drink. She was not willing to discuss that one incident. It was isolated and Joachim was genuinely upset with her. He might have one a bit overboard, but if the positions had been reversed, had Hanala been the one who was tortured and was in a fragile mental state, she did not know if she would have resisted the anger he felt.

"If you fear him being in contact with Saleb and me, then why do you give me this advice? Why did you sign off on my guardianship of Saleb?" Hanala inquired.

Father stood up; Hanala did as well, but fell back down onto the couch. She had too much to drink and things were starting to get a little too dizzy for her to manage.

"So why did you do it?" she repeated her question as she watched her Father inspect the many holos of Veyare and Rael that Mother brought for Saleb.

Father turned back around and inspected his child.

"Because I want you to be happy, and if that means having to accept that you love someone outside of our race… Keelah, outside of our technological era, then so be it," he said, his tone unflinching as inspected her. "It's just… Hanala, I don't _trust_ him for now. Maybe it will change, I do not know. All I know right now is that there are only three people in the galaxy I care about now and the thought of someone so mentally imbalanced being so close to two of the three keeps me up at night."

Hanala remained silent as her Father turned away to lift up a family holo. She frowned to herself. Father was right to be worried, and that was what scared her. Saleb was terrified of Joachim. It would take quite some time to build a trust between the two of them, and considering how Joachim was living on the edge of sanity and chaos…

Perhaps… to a certain extent… her Father was right.

Joachim Hoch… she had no idea anymore what was happening with him, binging on murder and narcotics… yes… he had grown more dangerous then she wanted to ever admit.

Hanala looked up to her Father.

"Father, I'm infertile… bordering on sterile."

Her Father turned back, his expression absolutely stunned by her sudden and unexpected confession. Hanala herself was stunned by the sudden revelation she had made. There was no lead up, and no need for the change in topic. It had been on her mind for several Earth months… well... months now. It was a secret shared between her physician and her, who brought her in and did a double check. She hadn't mustered the courage to explain what was wrong to anyone until now.

Father sat back down on the couch, this time significantly closer than last time, his arm reaching out to wrap it around his daughter's shoulder. Hanala tried to smile as she leaned into her Father as she did when she was a child. She could not help but smile as her Father grunted dramatically as the weight of her pressed against his shoulder.

"Mother's element zero exposure strikes again," she confirmed to her horrified Father. "I'm too poisoned for carrying a child to full term, my eggs aren't healthy either. Feasibly I could look into having a physician take several eggs, try to clean them and see if a host could carry them… But I don't know… I could not live with myself knowingly risking a child in a matter Mother accidentally damaged me."

She shook her head.

"I don't know why I told you that," she admitted rather ruefully. "I just it has been on my mind for quite some time. You're the first person I've told. It'll be by pure luck if I have a child of my own. Keelah, I don't think I ever wanted one. I never planned on being a parent…. Just don't tell Mother. She'll blame herself. I think she has this idea that since I'm 24, I need to have a child by now."

Father squeezed her hand, making Hanala smile slightly. He seemed very troubled with what he was hearing, but nonetheless, put on a brave face for her.

"Well you're a parent now, Hanala. In just over five years you will be more of a Mother to Saleb than Veyare was, ancestors watch over her and Rael," He lightly reminded her. "If you never have a child of your own, then Veyare will be your legacy. So no matter what, you have to protect her first. Understood?"

Hanala smiled faintly as she nestled into her Father's shoulder, closing her eyes like she did with him so many years ago. She did not like it, but she understood what her Father was telling her. It was a reaffirmation of what she dreaded to say out loud. That Joachim had to go down his own path until he was ready to accept the help he needed.

Perhaps… just perhaps her Father wasn't full of shit like she thought he was…

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Stepping off the last steps of the gangway, Joachim looked around at sun soaked city of Venice with great contempt.

The men gathered in the shipyard unloading bay turned around to face their Commandant. Nodding at them to continue unloading the last of the trucks they had managed to smuggle away from Rommel, Hoch passed by Joachim Peiper standing far off, smoking a cigarette as he inspected his new surroundings and his Battalion. He turned to Hoch, as if needing to say something, but his Commandant blew by him on his way up to look at the city they landed in.

Continuing walking up the old cobblestone road until he ended up on the sidewalk of a street where average day Italian citizenry wandered on, Hoch paused and scanned them carefully. Unsurprisingly to him, many of the locals passing by him looked at the German with barely veiled distaste, bordering on malice as they moved by him.

It came as no surprise this would be the reaction. With the disposal of Hitler, Italians probably now didn't know where the Germans would stand. Hell, most of command didn't know what to do with the Italian question. It would all be decided when Mussolini and the world found out why everything went down the way it did. Whatever the case, it was unlikely that the partnership existed any more. They were fighting in the desert because the Italians simply did not have the capacity to defend the region against the Anglo-American attacks.

If that was the case, then that technically meant that Joachim, his men and the thousands of other German troops stationed in Italy were occupiers. They were occupiers that the Italians would likely never resist openly when they placed in this kind of awkward position between friend and enemy.

"We got enough trucks for half the men to travel by."

The voice was Peiper as he stopped and stood next to the Oberst, still inspecting the Italian citizenry. Exhaling, he turned back to look at the significantly shorter Peiper. Although it was clear that Peiper was willing to work against the SS now, he didn't like it and he especially did not like Hoch. Hoch could work with that. If the Obersturmbannführer became a problem, he would deal with him properly.

In the meantime he could not afford to be picky over who he let into his regiment. Just about most of the Wehrmacht units fighting the National Socialists were depleted units from the fronts. So when Waffen-SS men volunteered their services, they more or less had to take them. Thankfully the bulk of the Waffen-SS was stationed in Russia. They knew better than to fight for a cause that would soon be a collapsed one.

With any luck, service to the Wehrmacht would open their eyes. It would bring about a terrible realization that of what the military arm of the SS had done, and allowed others to do against the untold millions during their rolling advance across Europe and into the Russian Steppes.

"We'll leave the Italians here," he muttered as he reached for his cigarettes. "I can't see them wanting to fight for us any longer."

Next to him, Peiper nodded in apparent agreement, he raised his clipboard and looked over the inventory numbers he spent the journey over working on.

"That solution will only deal with about two hundred men," Peiper said he looked back up. "We need transportation for a further thousand…"

Hoch stared at Peiper through the cigarette smoke. The Obersturmbannführer knew better than to push the subject any further. Exhaling Joachim looked away and gestured to the city at large.

"Look around you," he announced to his subordinate. "Do you see what I see?"

Peiper looked away from his Commandant to inspect the Italians distastefully.

"I see a lot of Italians who need a goddamn attitude tuning. This is a war, how dare they act like nothing is happening?" Peiper growled as he held his eyes on the civilians. "No good leeches. They started the war in North Africa-"

Without any warning Hoch and stepped off the curb, and turned to face a car that screeched to a halt in front of him. Joachim drew his pistol, and pointed it at the driver –a frightened young woman.

 _ **"GET OUT!"**_ he shouted at the woman in what little of the language he knew.

The woman obliged his order, jumping out of the car as she screamed flurry of Italian at him. Joachim answered her cries by stepping forward, opening the car door, he pulled out her personal possessions, food from the local grocer primarily, and threw them at her feet. He trained his pistol on her as she gathered her stuff, still screaming in Italian at him.

His actions were not going unnoticed by the locals. They watched in stunned silence at the scene unfolding. As soon as she gathered her bags, Hoch kicked her in the backside, forcing the woman to stumble to the ground as she fled. Pulling herself back up, she looked back to Joachim with humiliation running deep in her expression.

He did not want to do it, and he felt even worse about it then he usually would have, but intimidation was necessary. Civilians like these did not understand the concept of appropriation until the first victim was chosen and made an example of. Unfortunately, it was this woman's turn. It would serve as a warning that no one was safe until Joachim and his battalion was accommodated by the locals and out of the city limits.

Joachim turned back to the gaping Peiper.

"I see cars, trucks, scooters, motorcycles, bicycles and little to no Italian military or police presence," Hoch announced to the Obersturmbannführer. "Bring the men that aren't in transports. We'll take what we need from them. Loaning us their vehicles is the least they could do for us."

Peiper stood there for a moment, then he started to chuckle. The chuckle quickly turned into a belly laugh.

"You know Herr Hoch," he said as the laughter died down, still he was grinning widely. "You can put on that uniform all you want, you can talk just like your new friends and pretend they'll accept you, but you'll always be one of us no matter how hard you deny it."

Peiper left, leaving Joachim staring at the crowd as the familiar words pounded away in his head. Yes, this was all just a façade to hide behind.

His self-abuse was short lived. The woman whom he humiliated had joined the growing crowd across the street. Like jackals, one civilian started to approach, then another, then another. Joachim remained unmoving. He raised his pistol and fired a warning shot over their heads. The few that approached ducked back into the mass, at least for a little while, they came out again, raging like primitives, this time more came.

Hoch fired again; one round aimed just a little lower, making them duck their heads as though it would have been able to doge the bullet in time. They sped up their advance towards them.

 _"DISPERDERE! DISPERDERE!"_

It would not matter; Peiper was back running towards him, his pistol out, behind him, several Italian officers running ahead of him, screaming out orders to the crowd. Behind Peiper and the Italians came just about a thousand men marching up from the docks. Some of them took up a firing line around their commandant as others went to work pulling civilians out of their vehicles.

Slowly the crowd dispersed as the Italian Royal Army officers had demanded that they do. They knew full well that there was not a damn thing they could do other then get killed. Hoch ignored the looks of betrayal from the Italian men who served under him. He had no reason to justify his plunder of their people.

One of the last to leave was the young brunette, staring helplessly at her tormentor. Joachim stared right back, willing himself not to break down and try to apologize. He held his strength up as he watched the woman crack and turn away from him, limping up an empty side road.

At long last, Joachim could return to his shot up Mercedes and get this embarrassing incident behind him.

It was time to finally go home.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Far away from Earth, an explosion and the bursts of gunfire woke Aria T'Loak with a startle.

Rushing off her bed she ran to throw on her body armour and find her pistol just as she always prepared for in case of a sneak attack on her. As she pulled on the chest plate, the door fly open and in rushed a dozen of her men, wide eyed, covered in blood, some of them wounded, all of them frantically working on barricading the door as the gunfire outside only intensified, along with the screaming in turian, batarian and krogan.

What in the hell happened? Had that krogan bastard finally worked the nerve up to betray her? Was this a rival hit, or perhaps an attack by people she wronged? Whatever the case, they would die the same. Whether it was now or years from now, no one fucked with Aria T'Loak and survived very long to reap the rewards.

 _ **"BOSS, WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"**_ the lackey turian named Varnius spoke the obvious. _**"They just appeared out of nowhere! Spirits they were fast! They have all communication in and out of here blocked!"**_

Looking back to her boss, Malu, a one hundred and four year old maiden had a terrified expression on her face as she tried to fit the heat sink back into her weapon. Aria turned away. It would be a waste of nubile flesh for her to die like this. Fastening the last straps, she turned back to her men.

 _ **"GET BEHIND COVER, WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HE-"**_

The doors exploded, the windows exploded, flash grenades rolled in, blinding the Aria as she collapsed on the floor behind her bed, her fingers clutching the pistol tightly. The room exploded into unsuppressed gunfire, deafening the asari as rounds hit the wall and flesh, emitting screams of agony and terror.

Aria was not the sort of asari to remain hidden, but she knew the difference between a battle and a massacre, and this as a fucking blood bath. Varnius the turian flew over the bed and landed behind her, his head half torn off, his blood pooling around him. Gritting her teeth, Aria turned back and remained perfectly still until the sound of weapons dropped. Her men, whoever was left, had surrendered. As quickly as it started, it ended, silence falling over her shattered room.

 _ **"CLEAR!"**_

The word made her flinch. She knew exactly what she was dealing with. This was not some Blood Pack, or Eclipse hit squad, this was a professional fighting force -military professionals. She remained still, she knew that most of the guns were probably aimed right at her spot and the only thing holding them back from executing her was that they were waiting for the order.

The order however wasn't sounded. Instead a solitary pair of boots marched into the room and stopped just short of the bed.

"Miss Aria T'Loak?" a voice called out to her. "It's safe to come out now. Let's not make this a big deal."

Breathing heavy from a mixture of outrage, fear and rage, Aria climbed off the floor and stared at the dozen or so quarian operatives standing there in front of her. Gone were their environmental suits that made them look weak and fragile, these men and women wore proper military grade ballistic armour, their weapons top of the line salarian rifles. These were definitely not amateurs.

Several of them held the last of her men captive, rifles pointing at their faces, but unlike Aria, their hands were above their head. Malu, the young asari was trembling, her batarians, Galra and Bat'ar were stoic, their four eyes focused on the bright quarian eyes which were glaring back menacingly.

Behind the squad of quarian commandos, a man stepped out. He was uniformed, an officer, probably high ranking. He stood there with a smug look of satisfaction as he stared at the trapped underboss of Omega. Aria glared right back at him, her grip on her pistol tightening. She wasn't afraid of a short living civil servant.

"If I were you Miss T'Loak, I would probably drop that gun before everything spirals out of control," The quarian spoke, smiling still, a smile that did not meet his eyes as he added. "Everyone is dead outside. It's just you and your cheap goons against my heavily trained, personally handpicked, Special Forces team. "

Aria's teeth gritted, her temper was at a boiling point.

"You break into my home, kill my men, storm into my bedroom, and you expect me to just trust you?" Aria growled, stepping around the bed, her body shimmering and blue like the calm before a supernova. "You just fucked with the wrong asari, suit rat," she went on. "All the Special Forces teams in the galaxy will not stop me from splattering you across your men!"

The team of quarians stepped in front of the unarmed man, their weapons now covering at her. He ignored their protective ring around him and stepped through them, meeting Aria half way. His hands fell on his hips. Aria had to give credit where credit was due. Not many men or women who knew anything about Aria T'Loak, knew better than to fuck with her, let alone while she was summoning her biotic abilities.

"You're in no position to posture, and you know it; otherwise you would have done it by now. You must understand, I'm certainly not looking to make you surrender, or to cause you harm," the quarian shot back, as polite as always. "My name is Halid'Zorah, One of the five Admirals on the Admiralty Board. I am here to make a proposal with you."

The Admiral named Zorah turned back and gestured to his men. They stepped back, their weapons dropping to their sides. He turned back to face the asari, who stared at him with narrowed eyes. Her mouth curled up into a cruel smirk as her biotic's died down.

"I know all about what you have planned. The war you intend on instigating, a war that could consume every known species," she nearly purred as she slinked over to Zorah. "I don't trust the dregs you left behind, but I especially do not trust you and your intentions towards species manipulation."

All Zorah could do was grin. He too appeared to have been impressed that she had figured it all out.

"You still seem to misunderstand why we are here. I want to provide you with a serious opportunity, and knowing your type. A few dead hired guns are not going to bother you as much as you're making it out to be," he spoke to her smoothly. "Besides, it's sort of one of those deals where the man offering said deal is not willing to take no for an answer from a criminal with a seriously overinflated sense of her worth."

Ignoring Aria's outraged growl, Zorah stepped back and went to the blown open bedroom door, standing in the frame he gestured outside as he turned back to the asari burning holes into him.

"Miss T'Loak, I respectfully suggest that you come in on this offer as willing partners, so that I don't have to put you down, and have to waste another three hours in this dump, looking for another criminal to replace you," he spoke, his words no longer charming, but a menace in his tone replaced it. "It'll inconvenience me, and it will sure inconvenience you…"

Aria, while a powerful asari, was an asari who knew the value of self-preservation. She knew that there was nothing in her playbook to stop this bastard from exerting his will now. She would concede… for now. Defeated, Aria looked to her frightened men without an emotion for them.

"Kill the rest of my men," she suggested to the Admiral. "I imagine the less people talking about this, the better."

The moment she ended her sentence, the admiral signalled his men. The quarian special operations team opened fire, executing Galra, Malu and Bat'tar on the spot. The quarian admiral did not so much as flinch He held his warm eyes on the Omega underboss like nothing at all had happened. He held up his hand and his team stood down, not before one of them stepped forward and wrenched the pistol out of Aria's hand.

One by one the quarian commandos left the room, leaving Aria alone with the Admiral named Zorah, who stepped over the fresh corpses of her security detail and offered her his arm. Aria stared blankly at the quarian before reaching out and taking it. The smile on the bastard's face brightened.

"I'm glad that's out of the way," He admitted as he escorted her out of her bedroom and into her smoke filled penthouse. "I did not want to have to do all of this, but I know your types, I worked around your kind long before I was an Admiral. Usually I would get in, worm my way into your heart, then present an offer. Unfortunately I simply lack the time to do the long con, so to speak. So instead, a sudden and sheer amount of force usually works to crack hard cases such as you into a state of compliance."

Leading her down steps into her living room, Aria stared at the sheer amount of death and chaos that occurred in a few short moments. Her attentions turned back to the quarian next to her, who grabbed the dead turian guard by the back of his armour. Zorah pushed the body onto the floor and sat Aria down as though he held affection for her.

Halid clapped his hands together, smiling politely, like he was some sort of diplomat. Aria had no fucking clue what to make of this bright eyed lunatic. All that she knew for sure was that she knew the type: For the sake of his goals, he would easily kill just about everyone on Omega to see it through.

"Relax, Miss T'Loak, I'll see if I can find you something to drink," the Admiral said as he turned away to look at her liquor cabinet, smashed apart by rifle rounds. "First we'll get some purple back into your skin, and then we shall talk about my proposal."

Staring at the quarian for a moment, Aria nodded. She supposed it would not hurt to hear his offer out.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **Changes: Clean up, Section rerrangement, reduced Hanala's baby talk.**


	6. The Battle of Weilheim in Oberbeyern

**Chapter Six: The Battle of Weilheim in Oberbeyern: Part One**

 **…**

 _"How may I help you, Standartenjunker?"_

 _Joachim looked up to from one of the stray magazines left in the waiting room of the Bund Deutscher Mädel to the head of the local chapter standing in the doorway. He had been half-heartedly reading Das Deutsche Mädel out of sheer boredom. It was one of those magazines detailing the life of a good German girl, from emphasis on atheism, to fictions about treating the wounded soldiers, to preparing for Motherhood. It was all there in those pages. It was a lot romantic dribble in his opinion, but if this was what the girls liked._

 _National Socialism's policy on women was a very peculiar one. To many who dismissed the Party, they assumed the Party were traditionalists, hell bent on reverting women back to some sort of domesticated animal men were permitted to fuck. To those who were in the Party, they knew this was not the case. They wanted their women smart, strong and just as able as the men. The thing was the moment they got married; they were expected to drop their duties for a higher one: Having and raising children._

 _Dropping the magazine, Joachim collected his cap and stood to join the waiting woman standing there. She was in her early twenties, like most youth organizations in the country, there were very few older men and women in direct charge of the children of Hitler's Germany. The youth would lead the way, so to speak._

 _"Hello," he greeted the woman as he joined her. "I was wondering if Fraulein Katarina Kass is in, or is she gone for the day? I had figured that since the letters came from here…"_

 _The woman's eyes brightened at the mention of one of her students._

 _"Oh yes she's here, Standartenjunker," she confirmed with a bright smile. "She's in the midst of swimming and callisthenics with the other girls. You would not happen to be Joachim Hoch?"_

 _Joachim nodded, making the older instructor cry out happily, her hands clasping together._

 _"She speaks often about you to the other girls. I believe she has big plans for you very soon," She informed the Junkerschule candidate happily. "Her education here at the BDM is going to make you a very happy husband one day, now come along!"_

 _As the woman grabbed him by the arm and led him through the building, Joachim could not help but wonder about the obsession with marriage between the two of them by the older people surrounding them. First it was Gerald and Lene, now this woman, this complete stranger. He realized how important children were to the future of the Reich, but Joachim and Katarina were both just under 18. They both were a bit young to be doing that._

 _As they exited the building and ended up in the BDM training yard, Joachim froze in place. Privately he wondered if he had died._

 _Hundreds, many hundreds of young women in skimpy training gear were spread out across the training field. Most of the girls were in tight formation that was nearly militaristic in nature, each and every one of them working out by order of their instructors. Joachim did his best not to revert back to a primitive state and start drooling there and then._

 _He glanced to the head of the Kiel chapter, who rolled her eyes._

 _"Don't you give me that look!" the woman scolded him. "There is no need to be shy on their account, Herr Hoch."_

 _The two of them kept walking, past groups of girls relaxing and down in the direction of the pools off in the distance, where he could see from here at least twenty girls swimming laps in what appeared to be Olympic sized pools._

 _"The primary function of the BDM is to make young women confident in herself, her surroundings and stronger than the previous generation of women," the head of the local chapter spoke as they moved between the girls watching him. "The generation before complained during the food shortages in the last war, they cried when their favourite fabrics were sent to the war production plants instead of into their sewing room. The problem back then was that German women lost their values as they attempted to replicate the softer, but more fashionable Englishwoman. Should the unthinkable happen again and the Fatherland face a difficult time, these women, these future wives and mothers will be able to take punishment the foe would dare inflict on them. If our men are made of steel, our women must be stronger!"_

 _Joachim tried his best not to laugh aloud at the bravado of woman. She was talking out of her ass. Not ever could a woman be as strong as a man, let alone stronger. They were pretty and delicate, swimming and exercise was hardly a comparison to bayonet training, boxing, fencing and the sheer violence glorified in not just the SS, but as young as the Hitlerjugend._

 _Still… if Women wanted to delude themselves into thinking they will do anything other than mind the home, then perhaps that delusion would serve as a distraction from reality._

 _"Katarina," the woman called out to a group of girls sitting by the pool towelling herself off. "You have a visitor!"_

 _The girls looked up to their chapter leader and then to Joachim, several of them giggling and looking to the only girl who stood up, a smile crossing her lips. Joachim smiled as well. She was older than he remembered as Katarina Kass stepped towards him, the faintest hint of a blush touching her pale cheeks. Next to him, the head of the Chapter turned and left, leaving Joachim and the dark haired beauty standing there together._

 _"Hello Fraulein Kass," Joachim greeted her, a grin planted on his face. "I was under the impression that you hated my guts the last time we spoke. Was there a change of heart perhaps?"_

 _Katarina laughed rather nervously at Joachim's observation. Shifting in place she shrugged idly and smiled coyly to him._

 _"We were both young and stupid I guess…" she stated before trailing off nervously. "Joachim, could we… umm… could you give me a moment to get dressed? I'd rather not talk in front of these ones."_

 _She gestured to the girls behind her. Sure enough they were listening intently to the conversation being sparked up between the two of them. Joachim's grin was offered to the girls, making them avert their gaze as they whispered to one another. Joachim turned back and nodded his head. Relieved that he agreed, Katarina swooped in and kissed him on the cheek and left at nearly a run, leaving Joachim slightly confused._

 _Turning away from the girls, he stepped away from them a little ways and went for his cigarettes._

 _"Are you going to school at Bad Tolz?"_

 _Joachim turned back and found that a full gathering of young ladies, with far less modesty then Katarina had gathered around him. The question had come from the closest girl, she eyes wide and curious. Joachim simply smiled and nodded. The simple gesture was enough to emit a squeal from her, confusing Joachim. More so was when she bounced closer to grab onto his hand._

 _"My Brother is going there!" she informed him, her voice nearly a chirp as she looked up at him with wide adoring eyes. "Ernest Uhlmann? Do you know him? He mentions you all the time! He says you're easily one of the top students in the school!"_

 _Joachim squinted as the girl's depiction of him caught him off guard. He was considered one of the top students in the school? That wasn't something he strove out to set; he kept his head low and did what his instructors told him to do to the best of his abilities. Then again… compared someone like Ernest Uhlmann, Joachim was already Joachim Peiper talented. Uhlmann, as far as he knew was barely holding on, barely missing the washout._

 _Not sure what to do or say, he did what he figured he would follow his new credo he held faith in: WWGLD, or, What Would Gerald Langer Do? Right about now, Gerald would put on that shit eating grin of his and coolly, slyly tell her the truth, lacing it with humour so that his words were accepted, no matter how horrifying they were._

 _Like his pseudo-guardian, Joachim adapted the smile, showing his teeth. It was just enough to show dominance, but not enough to be considered aggressive. It was the lady-killer look, as Gerald put it. Women loved the smile when it came from strong looking men._

 _"Oh yes, I know him," he spoke smoothly for her. "He's not terribly bright, is he? He fell off his horse more than once; got us all into big trouble from 'Papa' Hauser, who was inspecting us."_

 _Ernest's sister burst out into a fit of laughter. Apparently she had the same conclusion on her brother as he did._

 _"That's my Brother all right!" She spoke bubbly. "My name is Ursula, Herr Hoch," She introduced herself, offering her hand to him. "Are you going career? Which arm?"_

 _Confused by her vapid enthusiasm into him, Joachim merely smiled again and took her by the hand, squeezing slightly before letting go._

 _"I'm going career in the SS-Verfügungstruppe."_

 _The girl's eyes widened at the statement._

 _"The combat unit? We have a soldier here!" She said excitedly to her friends, who all looked extremely impressed. "My Brother is going into administrative duties. He's not much of a soldier, just don't tell him that."_

 _Joachim found himself chuckling._

 _"I've seen him handle a rifle, no he's certainly not," He joked as well, still smiling faintly. "But in all seriousness, the SS-Allgemeine is important as well. Although we should all be trained to fight, not every one of us should be on the front line. Someone will need to watch over the country's internal security and management, and as such, in many ways, he will be much more talented then I will ever possibly be."_

 _His modesty earned him the affection of the girls. In other words, it likely would work very well for Katarina's reputation. Speaking of Katarina, she was approaching him and her friends; now back in a long blouse and dress, a small shy smile on her lips._

 _"Joachim?" She called out as she returned to his side. Nervously, she laced her arm around his waist, her eyes looking up into his before she turned back and smiled to her friends; adding. "I'm sorry girls; it's time for him to leave."_

 _The girls gave off a disappointed groan, only serving to stroke both Katarina's and Joachim's ego further. Looking away from Katarina, he turned his attentions back to Ursula. Joachim reached into his pocket._

 _"Tell Ernst I say hello," he spoke to her, pulling out a small day planner and pencil he kept on himself. "If you give me an address I might just look him up while I'm here."_

 _Ursula nodded and as soon as soon as she exchanged numbers with him, Katarina pulled the taller male away from the group, leading him back in the direction of the BDM hall._

 _Apparently the head of the local chapter was right. Katarina seemed to have very big plans for him._

…

"Just how much further to the rendezvous site, Herr Oberst?"

Breaking trance, Joachim Hoch looked up to the man he was sharing his Mercedes with, Obersturmbannführer Peiper. He was currently working in his papers. It appeared to be a final stockpile tallying of whatever supplies they had brought from Africa.

Sighing, Joachim stretched out and woke his body back into a state of alertness once again. Hacking violently, he went to find his cigarettes in an attempt to bring him back to a focused state.

"The shipment will be at the northern face of the Black Forest, forty five kilometres southwest of Stuttgart," Joachim informed his Battalion commander, who nodded. "We'll be rendezvousing with Von Stauffenberg and the rest of the regiment first…"

Joachim trailed off from his explanation. There on the side of the Autobahn, sat hundreds of civilians, some of them setting up camp, others rationing whatever supplies they brought from wherever they came from. It looked as though they were setting up for a long stay. The sight looked as though it stunned Peiper, who was now seeing the first real display of what the civil war was doing to the country.

Joachim frowned and tapped the driver on the soldier, who obliged and pulled the car over to the side of the road. The halt brought the column of appropriated civilian vehicles to a halt.

As Joachim presented himself, the civilians nearly rushed him, all of them screaming in his direction as though he were some sort of savour. It took a dozen of his men bolting out in front of them, training their rifles at them to convince the panicked civilians to back down. Stepping between his men, Joachim looked for someone he could pull aside and found just the man he needed to speak to.

Amidst the civilians was a half-dressed Wehrmacht enlisted man, his uniform in tatters, his face covered in grime. He was barely able to stand, yet he still tried to move through the crowd. Joachim drew his pistol and fired a round in the air. Civilians were the worst sort of people to deal with in mass. It did not matter if they were friendly or not, they were insufferably arrogant at the first sign of potential hardship.

"Move aside for him!" he shrieked at the masses, gesturing the only soldier amongst them. The civilians, who, out of fear at the reaction he gave them, listened to the Oberst at long last, they moved out of his way. Joachim stepped forward, his hand gripping the soldier's jacket and guided him out of the crowd.

"What happened here, Obersoldat?" he demanded to know as his men closed the gap, separating Hoch and the soldier from the civilians.

The man, more of a boy, really, looked wearily from the Oberst, and stared hard at Peiper, standing there with several of his Waffen-SS underlings. One look at the boys first was enough for Joachim to know exactly what had happened here.

"We came from Weilheim, just about thirty kilometres, due east over the River Lech, Herr Oberst," the soldier said as he turned back to Hoch. "I was on leave to see my parents… Next thing we know the SS have marched in with the Wehrmacht expecting a fight. When they didn't get one, the SS started killing the townspeople. Well the Wehrmacht they served with didn't like thi-"

"The SS were throwing grenades into houses and used flamethrowers on basement shelters!" A woman cried out over the soldier, forcing his attention to a rather heavyset looking older woman. "A Heer rifleman saw it and shot one of them in the chest. All hell broke loose after that. Oh God they burned and killed everyone!"

"We came from the north Weilheim," another woman, younger this time, spoke. "The Wehrmacht was heavy there. They held the SS off long enough to give us tents and supplies and sent us packing. Said the west would be safe. They lie, nowhere is safe!"

Joachim rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was getting out of hand. He could feel his contempt for civilians growing by the millisecond.

"Why aren't you idiots in another municipality?" he demanded to know from them. "Hohenfurch, or Schongau, they're only an hour or so away from here."

An old man stepped forward. He looked utterly deranged by the violence he had witnessed. He appeared a bit too old to have served in the last war.

 _"Are you crazy?! We're better out here than in a town. Towns just box you in; kill everything quicker, more live bodies for them to burn, and more people to kill! Use flamethrowers, bombs, guns, knives and terror!"_ he listed off, wildly. _"God damn you Arminius! The tribes should have been left fractured!"_

Any further rambling about the man who scared Rome into leaving the German tribes alone was cut off as Joachim snapped out and dropped the old man with one punch to the face. These dumb bastards shook and lost their minds at the first sign of trouble. This was against every instinct he expected out of a good German. Furious, Joachim once again shot over their heads.

 _ **"YOU WILL ALL SETTLE DOWN, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND PERSEVERE THROUGH THIS, OR SO HELP ME GOD-"**_

Joachim didn't get to finish. The whistling of shells and explosions hit the tree line they were a hundred metres away from. The civilians screamed over the shells, and Joachim was pushed to the ground by one of his men in anticipation of a prolonged attack. It did not happen. As soon as the barrage started, it ended.

Peiper was the first man up; he moved though the huddled civilians and assessed the torn apart tree line.

"Those were 10.5 centimetres; two of them at least, at most five," said Peiper as he turned back to his Commandant. "I doubt they meant to hit us, but still we got lucky."

Joachim stood up, slapping his hand on the back on the soldier who shoved him down and started brushing himself up. His temper flared back to life. No one shelled him and got away with it, even if they missed; even if the artillery operators fired the rounds did so in a panic. He had full intentions of ignoring the fighting and leaving Weliheim alone to its fate. His men weren't combat ready, but all that went out the window now.

Joachim looked at his men, now dismounted from their vehicles and gathered around awaiting orders. It appeared to them that this taste of what befell the country had become reality to them. This was not the far distant frontier they fought on. This was home, and this was barely a fraction of the misery being inflicted upon their countrymen.

No… they wanted to fight, and they would ignore his order not to fight today, short of ammunition and firepower or not.

"Peiper, I want you and the two companies of Waffen-SS men and one of Wehrmacht men kept here and set up a defensive position, have the civilians move to the other side of the road," He decreed to the Obersturmbannführer. "In a few hours I want a scouting team sent to investigate Hohenfurch to see if it's friendly hands, left alone, or occupied. If it is safe, send the up there, if not, then keep them here."

Peiper nodded and started barking out his orders, leaving Hoch to turn and face the young battered Obersoldat once again.

"Obersoldat, tell me, where do your allegiance lay?" he inquired.

The soldier snapped to attention and stared straight ahead as though he were back on parade grounds.

"The Führer is dead, Herr Oberst, therefore my oath demands I serve the country and the people," the Obersoldat spoke on ceremony. Pausing for a moment, he added. "Clearly that is something the SS does not do anymore. Burning down towns… killing, executing, it is sheer madness that drives them now."

Joachim crossed his arm.

"Are you just saying that to get on my good side?" He challenged the boy.

The Obersoldat nodded; there was no shame in him.

"Yes Herr Oberst," he admitted to Joachim plainly. "It's something I now believe in. On occasion, siding with the rebellion may not be such a bad idea…"

Joachim could not help himself, he quirked his mouth in amusement by the boy's realistic understanding. He glanced back to Peiper, who appeared amused as well. He stepped closer and pressed his natural arm onto the boys shoulder, shaking him back and forth with as much affection as he could muster at that moment.

"I like this kid," he spoke to Peiper, who seemed somewhat amused enough to smile. "Find him a weapon. He's coming with me."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Pouring another cup of coffee from his thermos, Adrian von Fölkersam sat back down at the table across from his quarian captive. It was time to continue. He did not have a whole lot of time left for today before they put the quarian through another session of ice baths.

Looking over his notes, Adrian looked up to Dalad. The miserable looking alien knew what was coming. Taking pity on the pilot, Adrian closed his folder.

"Do you know why your people have landed on my world in the first place?" he spoke as he set his thermos cup down to look at the quarian properly. "Do you know why they would be so willing to meddle into the messy affairs of humanity?"

Dalad did not answer him. Sleep deprivation techniques was starting to get to him. Quarians it seemed needed more sleep than a human. Still the Flight Lieutenant would not talk unless he had to, or he was confronted with something he might not have known. The quickest way to break through his defences at the moment appeared to be surprise.

"If you don't know, I'm willing to tell you. This isn't me interrogating you, this is simply a question, Dalad," Adrian informed the quarian, his tone slightly amused. "Skorzeny told me that your people plan on turning our people into your slaves."

The remark was like a torpedo striking broadside of a munitions ship. Dalad leaned back into his seat, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked furious at the assessment of the quarian people as some sort of slave master race.

"We- we would never do that!" he stuttered out, his hands griping the side of the table. "That's… that's unthinkable! Impossible!"

"Is it?" Adrian spoke slyly as he finished his cup of coffee. "From what I've head quarians play fast and loose with the lives of others. It's the reason why your people are in exile in the first place. Why the galaxy has shunned you for creating machine races to perform your manual labour, your menial tasks, even have a hand at waging war. You made them so advance that whatever happened was bound to happen, even when it was contrary to the intergalactic communities' stance on artificial intelligence."

The quarian stared at him as though Adrian had been some sort of mystic.

"How… how do you know all of this?"

Adrian merely shrugged and he laced his fingers together.

"I already told you my source; Otto Skorzeny," Adrian reminded the alien. "He despises your race, but he does not underestimate your power. He listened or had his people listen to whatever bits of information they could come across, then he pieced it together… is he far off?"

Judging from the panic in his expression, Skorzeny's assessment of the quarian species' plight was extremely accurate. They did not know all the fact, but they knew enough to know that whatever the hell the quarians were up to hadn't been a good thing and potentially risked a galactic war; so much for being benevolent victims of an accident.

"Why does he despise us?" the quarian redirected, his tone pleading to understand. "We're not here to conquer or to suppress. We're here as friends, at most teachers! But no matter the role we play, it is most certainly not as some sort of tyrannical conquerors!"

"You have to understand, Skorzeny is an egomaniac, he's the sort of a man who believes firmly that a man should create his own destiny," He explained his boss to the alien. "So the thought that an alien race would come here with the high belief that humans should hand their destiny over to them, who require slave soldiers for your homeworld's liberation is an abhorrent offense he cannot forgive… and he is not alone in this reasoning."

The alien scrunched up his face distastefully.

"But we came here for a trade! Not to enslave and conquer or force our will on others!" Dalad cried out in incredulous frustration. "Sure, we'll need your help fighting, but we can advance your civilization hundreds of years in a matter of a few decades. In your lifetime man will reach beyond this solar system! How can you or Skorzeny reject such a gift? How can you be the moral authority to this?"

Adrian leaned back into his seat, unimpressed by what the quarian was saying.

"How fast humanity should progress is not up to anyone other than humanity as whole," Adrian shot back at the Flight Lieutenant. "You cannot sit there and tell me you learned nothing from the krogan. Mature too quickly physically, but mentally remain metaphorical children, and the race is doomed to plunge everything into warfare. Look at Germany now. We have only been a unified country for 73 years. We became obsessed with keeping up with older counties and that has led to so much war and death. This will be the case when humanity finishes her war against the machines and faces the galaxy of aliens unsure of what to expect. Conflict is inevitable."

Dalad shook his head.

"Things were different back then!" the quarian protested the hypothesis of the human. "The salarians were fighting for their lives against an insectoid species, the krogans were not granted a period of adaptation. That won't happen this time. The Admirals assured us that adaptation to technological and intelligence rapid advancement would be in place before any future plans against the geth were in place."

Adrian's laughter only served to make the quarian angry.

"That's a whole lot of faith in the competency of your government and the ability to apply your lessons to us," Was his response. "We aren't machines you can program. We have a mind of our own and we're capable of a great deal many terrible things with it. This is why Skorzeny is doing all of this. He intends on scaring your race into abandoning us…"

"So the attack you want to wage on the fleet is a warning as much as it is retrieval…"

The former Abwehr commando nodded.

"You understand now," Adrian responded grimly. "Humanity is not ready for this, and even though he's holding my family against their will I have to agree with his warning. That is why we need you to cooperate. Not just for our sake, but yours as well. You don't want your family under constant peril. Even if you agree to help and in the end your people settle here they will still live in mortal danger. Wherever your people land and settle they will not be accepted, they will be feared and hated by the locals. They will take up arms against you and they will hurt or kill people you love no matter how good your intention might be."

Silence fell between the two of them. Adrian watched as the quarian seemed to internally debate his response to what Adrian was saying. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps the quarian was finally wavering in his resolve. Perhaps if he partially agreed he could convince Skorzeny to join them and find a common ground to smooth out the details. Skorzeny was stubborn, but certainly not unreasonable.

"Ancestors help me."

Adrian tilted his head and watched as Dalad looked back to stare back at his human captor.

"How would you do this?" Dalad inquired as though he was discussing the last thing he ever wanted to speak about. "I'm not agreeing to anything, I just need to know more about what your boss intends. It will involve murder, won't it? You'll clear out the ship holding your leader as a warning…. Perhaps instead you could convince your people to talk to the Admiralty Board. You certainly have a slick tongue."

Adrian smiled grimly.

"Unfortunately I cannot see any other way then to turn the ship into a fireball. It's the only way a warning can be made. It's messy, but that's war," Adrian admitted brutally honest about Skorzeny's mission objective. "I wish that talking would work, but when your leaders spent years… at least a decade watching Earth like it was theirs already, I'm afraid they will now only pay attention to carnage."

Adrian paused for a moment to let what he said sink into the quarian.

"Perhaps we could come to a compromise," He added, making the alien look up to him curiously. "Would you be inclined to hear me out?"

Reluctantly, the Flight Lieutenant nodded.

"You help us out; in exchange we can limit the bloodshed spilled," Adrian elaborated. "I cannot guarantee people won't die in the attack. I can however convince Skorzeny to go out of his way to minimize casualties and not make his message come in the form of an exploding ship… or used as a battering ram against another vessel…"

The door to the cell opened and in marched one SS Hauptsturmführer and two helmeted soldiers. Looking to Dalad, who was suddenly terrified, Adrian turned back to the new arrivals. All of whom looked at the quarian distastefully before turning back to him.

"Herr Fölkersam," the Hauptsturmführer informed the interrogator. "I am to take the prisoner to the interrogation chamber three on order by Commandant Skorzeny. He needs a bath."

Knowing just how freezing cold the bath they had planned for the quarian was, Adrian crossed his arms. Slowly he shook his head.

"You will not punish him today," Adrian defiantly countermanded the order instituted by Skorzeny. "You will let him rest."

Before he could do anything, the Hauptsturmführer pushed Adrian hard onto the ground, his pistol coming out of his holster as the two sentries moved over to pull the interrogator from off the floor.

"Then I must inform you that you will be punished for breaking schedule," Are you certain you will want this?"

Adrian nodded his head defiantly; a resounding crack left him dazed as he collapsed. The Hauptsturmführer had pistol whipped him hard across his face. He was lucky he hadn't broken anything. Coughing, Adrian spat blood on the Hauptsturmführer before turning back to stare at the shocked quarian.

"I… I told you we were both victims to his will," was all he could say as he was escorted out of Dalad's cell.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Thank you for inviting me, it's preferable to killing all my men and shooting at me again."

Halid quirked his lips as he gestured to the seat in front of him. Aria T'Loak, underboss of Omega Station did not take his suggestion. Instead she blew by his desk and went to go stand in front of the observation port, her eyes staring at her prize: Omega Station, the one thing in the galaxy that the asari apparently wanted. The prize she would be willing to work with him for.

He had no idea why she wanted to meet with him. He left her, her instructions and told her that they would meet again sometime in the near future. He did not have any more time to spare in the documented space. He needed to return to Earth and assist in the war's final push into the Ruhr, then into the port cities, then finally, into Berlin. With Germany pacified, it would be time to reveal quariankind to humanity.

"You wished to discuss the finer points to arrangement with me?" Halid spoke up, hiding his impatience. "I was going to provide you with details soon enough, you know. There was no need to come to me so soon."

The asari turned around, her arms still behind her back as she stared at the Admiral, who really did not want to be sitting here listening to the likes of her. Still, criminal scum would have its uses. Yet again, Halid gestured to the seat in front of him.

Frowning, the asari strode over and slumped down into the seat. Her fingers laced together as she held her gaze hard on the quarian admiral.

"Let's start at the top," Aria started, her eyes still narrowed on him, paranoid that the deal would be revoked and the shooting started back up. "You want me to spend at the minimum, fifty years of my life organizing mercenary raids against the geth under the guise of savaging from your dead civilization's colonies. However, your real objective for me is to monitor the geth and bring back parts back with us. Every three to five years, I am to bring what I have to the solar system you are now settling into."

Halid smiled slightly as he reached into his desk, producing a glass and bottle of human scotch for her to sample. Her eyes fell from his face, inspecting the alien characters written on the label.

"It sounds like you have an understanding," Halid pointed out as the asari took the bottle and sniffed the contents, recoiling slight. "Would you like further clarification?"

Aria put the bottle down and arched her brow at the quarian. It was clear to Halid that Aria wasn't the sort of person who responded to written instructions, nor anyone speaking in a belittling way to her. She leaned forward, her eyes unblinking.

"Oh yes, Zorah, I would," Aria shot back, her voice brimming with sarcasm at the remark. "Starting with what's stopping the geth from tracking my journeys from the Perseus Veil, to your settlement on this planet Earth?"

Halid ignored the twinge of hatred he felt for this woman, taking control of his emotions he took the bottle from her, poured the woman a glass and pushed it within her reach.

"You will travel under Citadel colours to the Citadel itself. There you will store it away. There you will work on ensuring that the parts you took were deactivated," Zorah explained the plan for the plotting asari. "The machines are not creative thinkers, they are logic driven. If they see a Citadel ship, with Citadel registration travelling always travelling straight back into the heart of Citadel Space, they will assume that it is a studying party sent by them."

Watching as Aria sipped her drink and nearly gagged on it, Halid chuckled to himself. Although the laugh wasn't directed to her, she certainly thought it had been. His chuckle turned into a wide smile. It was an expression that caught the asari's attention.

"With any luck it may instigate a war between the Council races and the geth. It would be beneficial of the geth were weakened and the Council races punished for abandoning us," he explained his most preferred scenario. "Still, it is likely that the geth know better than to wage war over a few stolen platforms and databanks."

He looked back up to Aria, who stared at him most curiously. She seemed almost impressed by his thought process, like she had never heard something like that uttered by someone like him before. Quarians weren't well known as plotters like asari were. Aria took another drink, this time not shuddering nearly as much.

"Compensation is the next topic," she moved on.

 _Compensation?_ Was she being serious? Halid leaned backwards into his seat, his fingers lacing together. This was a topic they discussed in detail their last meeting.

"You will be getting your compensation at the end of your service," Halid reminded her as she again sipped her strong human drink. "A fleet of ship and several divisions of soldiers to be diverted and sent to your coup on Omega is nothing to sneer about, is it?"

Aria set the glass back down.

"That is not what I mean," the underboss snapped back at him. "I answer to a boss, Admiral, a boss who will be smart enough to know when I am gone, who will likely have me followed if I do not approach him first. He will demand to know what I am up to and will expect a cut in my schemes. If I spend so long away from Omega without a reason, he will undoubtedly suspect something."

Aria and Halid stared at one another. She kept silent, allowing the quarian to think about what she had told him about her boss. Admittedly, this was an oversight on Halid's part. He wasn't sure if this was a ruse or not, a means to make extra on the side for her. As much as he doubted it, there was no room to make an assumption. He would play her game.

"I cannot provide you with credits," Halid replied carefully. "I can, however, provide you with raw ores; gold, silver, platinum…other raw ores if you wish. They can be sold for credits and you can use the profits as his cut. Now, is that all?"

Aria answered at first by standing up to leave. She paused however at the door. She turned back, her expression filled with an odd curiosity. It was like for the first time she was genuinely looking for an answer from him.

"Why are you coming to me, Zorah?" Aria inquired of Halid, who remained motionless. "I'm not someone I imagine your people would want one of their leaders associated with…"

Halid stood up next, his hands resting on the top of the desk.

"Miss T'Loak, I have made deals with monsters, murderers and evil personified into live sapient beings. These are men who have more blood on their hands then in your wildest dreams," Halid explained as he leaned onto his desk. "I make these deals because for the most part, I need their strength to be preserved. I need these men to educate the next generation of humans and quarians alike about how to wage war in a way quarians have not seen in two hundred years: total… apocalyptic war."

Aria remained dead still, as though her worse fears were being confirmed. War might have been good for business, but the sort of war he was suggestion was leaving her numb.

"For the survival of my people, I shall make all sorts of deals with all forms of evil to save them," Halid pressed on, his tone cold and filled with a growing acknowledgement that history would not be kind to him

Halid leaned forward purposely imposing on her personal space.

"I can assure you, Aria T'Loak. In the grand survival scheme I have orchestrated, you are but a footnote…" he growled at her. "Now kindly get off my ship. I'll see you in five years."

In spite of her own seething repressed rage, Aria nodded and left, leaving Halid alone to stew in what he was concocting.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up and clarification**

 **That should be enough for the past few days thinking about the reworking of the next generation and was excited to get it started, so I have had motivation to get through this.**


	7. Battle of Weilheim in Oberbeyern Part 2

**Chapter Seven: The Battle for Weilheim** **in Oberbeyern - Part Two**

 **…**

It was early morning before Joachim Hoch and a thousand men from his Battalion made it through the woods, over the river, and through more woods, swamps and fields until they had reached the outskirts of Weilheim in Oberbeyern. Although only about thirty kilometres, they had to move swiftly and silently, no one had been certain what was happening there.

All they knew for certain, was that the gunfire and artillery shells exploding was getting closer and closer. It was clear to everyone that the Heer units stationed with the SS had indeed grown some sort of morality and tried their hardest to do something to stop the madness. Even if from where they were they could see that nearly the entirety of the town was on fire. The SS may have prevailed in their mission, but Joachim was going to make sure that they would not taste victory for long...

Unfortunately this delay meant he would be late in picking up his rearmament delivery, he had to call Claus von Stauffenberg to explain the delay, and the quarians to hold his order. Both of them seemed to understand and wished him and the men good luck in the coming battle he had stumbled into by accident.

As they reached the outskirts of the town, the men fell to their stomachs and crawled the last of the way until they same within a hundred metres of the source of the artillery rounds. Two mobile artillery pieces mounted on what appeared to have been mounted on Panzer II Chassis'. It was quite the clever usage of the obsolete model version of Panzerkampfwagen II, really.

Waste nothing in this environment of total war was a good policy to have. They were not Americans, who could waste everything they saw as their populace hid across oceans.

Joachim looked back and gestured to Helmut Mann and his Company to move up to join him. He turned back, pulling his binoculars off his belt.

Coming out of the city was three trucks and a hanomag. They came to a full stop as they reached the mobile artillery battery. The backs of the vehicles opened and out jumped troops, some of them ushering one civilian after another. Joachim stared in silent horror as he counted them. Forty three in total marched in a line as prisoners towards what appeared to be an Obersturmführer, his hands on his hips as he greeted his victims with an unnaturally bright smile.

 _ **"-The town of Weilheim in Oberbeyern has been found guilty of sympathizing with the treacherous division of the Wehrmacht. By order of Heinrich Himmler, in the Führer's name, you have all been hereby sentenced to death… Line them up!"**_

Himmler. Only he would do something as disgusting as this. Joachim's mouth curled in disgust as he watched the so called _'soldiers'_ line moved in to the civilians up against the fence posts. These bastards were dead, they were all _dead_.

Next to him, a hand grabbed him by his jacket. It Mann, who looked beyond disturbed as he set Joachim's binoculars back by the Oberst.

 _"Joachim, we have to stop this,"_ he breathed shallowly as the execution team went about setting up the MG-42.

Watching as the civilians were guided to their execution grounds, Joachim nodded. He could not have agreed more. He turned back to Mann's company, each face that saw this was itching to fight. The company machine gun crews and the several men armed with captured American anti-tank rocket propelled grenade launchers pushed forward to get their firing positions set up.

"Yes we'll stop it, Mann," he agreed with his subordinate. "Prepare your company to fire on my order. Nothing is held back. Spare the artillery and the trucks if you can."

The colour drained out of Mann's face. His mouth opened up slightly as he tried to digest what Joachim had decided. Joachim turned away, his attention back on the many faces that would be all dead in a matter of minutes, or potentially wounded and killed in seconds.

 _"Joachim, we cannot possibly do that!"_ Helmut protested in a harsh whisper. _"There are too many civilians in the way. What if we get them all_ _ **killed**_ _?!"_

Joachim narrowed his eyes at the display of hesitation. Now was not a moment to get ethical about where, when and who they put in their crosshairs. Mann should have known better than this. He should have understood that basic lesson the moment he first hit combat in urban areas.

 _"A minute or two after that MG is set up, all those people will die. If we fire first, only some of them will die. Those are the only options that you have, Hauptmann,"_ Joachim tersely informed Mann, his words quivering with suppressed annoyance. _"It's your company. Fire now, or fire later, it's your decision now."_

Joachim looked away from the Hauptmann, and raised his binoculars back to his eyes. His focus trained on the men and women standing on the firing line, some crying, others praying… all of them on the verge of death, their fates to be decided by a Mann who thought he could fight clea-.

 _ **"COMPANY, OPEN FIRE!"**_

The line exploded around Joachim, as Mann's company opened fired on the platoon supporting the mobile artillery and the execution squad. He smiled slightly, satisfied that a lesson was being learned. His first Battalion was beginning to understand the scope of what they had to do to save the country. After months in North Africa, they now had to get used to an entirely new enemy: their fellow countrymen.

He glanced over to Mann, who looked utterly disgusted by issuing the order.

Well… at least most of his men were beginning to understand…

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Stepping out of her shower after her daily work out, Hanala yawned, her arms high above her head as she stretched out her lithe body as she used to do all those years ago when she dreamed of being a dancer.

She had the next two or so days off to herself, having spent the past five days in conferences with ship captains and youth educators about the knowledge of the planet they would soon be settling onto. With her teaching these men and women, her knowledge would quickly be passing on to their crew members and students. It was tediously, boring work talking about the same thing over and over again. She would be glad when once the major captains in the Conclave knew; they would spread the knowledge on her behalf.

In the meantime she had some time off to do whatever she could do while confined to a fleet that had cut of the extranet connection to the rest of the civilized galaxy. It was official, they were about to become pioneers. As she towelled herself off, thousands of men and women were building prefabricated residences for planetary deployment, or working the thousand or so biosphere's on Mars. Quietly and secretly, several hundred were busy operating the platforms, working the war manufacturing plants on Luna, rearming a severely depleted and over-extended fighting force they would soon be aligned with.

The civil war had stalled the fight for the Wehrmacht, force yet, it had set back Erwin Rommel and Heinz Guardians' fortunes in North Africa. It appeared that the Anglo/American invasion had finally relieved the surrounded and utterly savaged Western Taskforce in Algiers. For the moment, the lines had stabilized. That could change any day.

Realistically speaking, Rommel, Guderian and their colleagues had no reason to be in most of the continent. There was talk to pulling out of Algeria and Tunisia and holding the Libyan border. Any further and the settlement of Maur'Sata was at risk of discovery. They had already had to shoot down a full flight of American bombers with UA-976 Anti-Aircraft magnetic grenades

The UA-976 was a three stage fragmentation grenade: first the initial explosion of the shell, not dissimilar to that of flak, the shell, contained several dozen ball bearing sized charges coated in magnetic paste. The shell exploded, the magnetized spheres latched onto planes, and were detonated shortly afterwards.

It was a terrible thing to use, and more unfortunately, it had been quite some time since the military since they fired weapons in anger against live people. It was an ability they would need to remember quickly. The humans were likely going to be extremely aggressive. To show anything other than superiority would inspire weakness as they stepped out onto the world stage.

All that aside, this was her time off. She would think about absolutely nothing other than providing Saleb a wonderful day together. Getting dressed into some casual relaxed wear, she figured she knew what to do once that little girl woke up. She would see if Saleb was open to inviting over the Goebbels children.

Now… it seemed like an awful idea on paper. Magda Goebbels abhorred a lot of contact with the quarian hosts she was held by. But at the same time, she was quite often open to visits with Hanala. It was as though she was the best of a bad situation for the woman. For Hanala at least, Magda had been sort of a pet project lately. She wanted to understand what drove a sane, intelligent woman into the arms of someone as ambitious and ruthless as Adolf Hitler, who was languishing in a cell under strict orders not to speak to anyone other than her Father and Zorah.

With any luck, Magda would accept the invitation, if only for the sake of the children, who were cooped up by themselves with her. She would have to reassure her that it would only be her and Saleb, and none of the other women that both of them detested.

Stepping out of the bathroom she wandered down the empty ship deck and paused as she glanced into Saleb's room. She was still fast asleep. Smiling slightly she pulled herself away and continued on to the deck kitchen to make herself something to snack on.

At least that had been the plan once Hanala entered the kitchen area and found a woman with her back turned, preparing something to snack. She could hear sniffling, as though she had been crying.

" _Mother_?"

Sure enough, Mother turned around, drying her eyes.

Hanala squinted as she looked over her Mother. She stood there with a watery expression, her eyes puffed as though she had been crying for the past several days. Hanala softened her expression. She was still grieving for Rael and Veyare. Mother had odd cycles, her grief visual or hidden in cycles. Today must have been a bad day for her. Perhaps she saw a young mother and reminded her of Veyare, or perhaps she had seen an inanimate carbon rod and was instantly reminded of Rael.

Hanala grinned internally as she tried not to cry, her beyond the grave teasing of her sibling made things easier to deal with. It reminded her not to imbue her Brother with any special traits simply because he was gone. His faults, no matter how petty they were, were what made Rael, Rael.

Yawning, she was about to make her way over to welcome her Mother, but Mother was too quick. Before Hanala realized it, Mother had swallowed her up into a heavy froze in place or several seconds before slumping in and accepting her Mother's odd display of affection. If this was a means to help her with her grief, then it was the least she could do.

At least that was what she thought was the case, until one of Mother's hands slipped and touched Hanala's stomach. She pulled back, looking down slightly on her daughter.

"I'm so sorry, Hanala my love. I was so young and stupid… I…" she breathed, her words pathetically sappy as the look in her eyes gave away what the hell this had been about.

Hanala recoiled in sheer disgust, wrenching her Mother's hand away from her stomach and stepping back three paces. From her devastated Mother, Her eyes were filled with red hot rage. How _dare_ she bring this up!?

"Father just could not keep his mouth shut about our talk, now could he?" Hanala muttered mutinously as she turned away to find herself a drink of water. She could not believe she was going to have to listen to her Mother start a conversation with her about fertility and Hanala's lack of it.

"Your Father cannot keep a secret from me if he tried, and trust me, daughter, he tried to keep this a secret," Mother snapped right back as she followed Hanala to the sink. She latched her hands onto her daughter's arm. "Oh Hanala, why didn't you tell me sooner… I-I could have come to help you through the various options. Being a Mother is such an experience. To- to think I robbed you of that…"

Without warning, Mother's hand pressed against Hanala forehead. Her other hand was covering her mouth.

"Oh Keelah," she moaned as though Hanala was on her death bed. "Come on, lay down, I think you have a fever."

Hanala did her best not to scream in frustration, she smacked her Mother's hand off her head, her hands gripping her Mother's shoulders, shaking her slightly to make her focus. Why, WHY did this have to happen to her! Sometimes she thought that Joachim was so lucky not to have parents.

"I just exercised and got out of the shower," She stated the best she could without exploding and killing the woman who gave birth to her. "I do not have a fever and I do not need to run through the options. Mother, please stop this, I am not sick, I am not dying. I'm infertile. That's all that is wrong with me. It wasn't your fault you were exposed to element zero while you were pregnant; it wasn't your fault that it affected me like this. Okay?"

Hanala waited for a good minute and a half as she waited for her Mother to calm down. As soon as she seemed to find some sense of reason in her self-perpetuated guilt, Hanala let go of her Mother and turned away to pour herself a glass of water.

If she had thought that was the end of the conversation, she was surely mistaken.

"Is this why you're dating that psychotic ape, because you cannot easily reproduce like… like Rael?" Hanala heard uttered behind her. "We're not going to be on this fleet for much longer. The resources can be provided soon. You don't have to settle for him."

Hanala rounded back on her Mother, who there not in the slightest mortified by her statement. Without so much as a warning, Hanala's hand snapped out and slapped her Mother hard across the cheek. Galina'Jarva was woman renown for speaking her mind, no matter how uncomfortable the truth was, but this time she had gone too far.

Hanala took no pleasure in hitting her, but she thoroughly earned it. She remained silent as she watched Mother rub her cheek tenderly.

"I'm dating Joachim because I like him, because I love him, not because I can't have kids on a whim," she told her Mother, leaving no debate for argument. "If you were paying attention to anything that Father told you, other then what involved you, you would know that I can have children should I plan ahead. Now kindly, and with all respect owed to you: Leave me the fuck alone."

Mother looked ready to spit something else to continue the fight. Hanala however held up her hand.

If you want to make breakfast for Saleb, by all means," Hanala added on. "But any further discussion about my health or Joachim is not a part of this."

Knowing full well that her Mother needed to be reaffirmed that everything was alright between them before she assumed that her daughter was going to never speak to her again, Hanala leaned in and kissed her Mother's discoloured cheek, then leaned back, smiling to her even though she was still furious with her.

"I mean it, Mother," Hanala restated once again, just in case. "One more thing from you and I'm kicking off my ship."

Before Mother could say another, there was a tug on the bottom of her blouse which caught Hanala's attention. Sure enough it was Saleb, tired eyed, still in her sleepwear, she looked extremely anxious. She looked at Hanala almost fearfully.

 _"Are you dying, Auntie Hana?"_

Hanala's heart nearly broke at the question. How long had she been listening? Apparently long enough for Saleb to hear her sarcastic barb, but too young to process it as anything other than the truth. Hanala glanced back to her Mother, who was dumbstruck and appeared rather ashamed of herself for her behaviour at the moment.

Hanala, sitting down onto her knees, took the child's hands into hers and offered the largest, most reassuring smile she could possibly produce as she shook her head.

"No I'm not, Saleb," Hanala softly reassured the girl. "Grandmother gets pretty crazy when she is kept in the dark. She's both extremely spoiled and self-absorbed, but she disguises it as a genuine concern others well-being. Isn't that right, Grandmother?"

With her child and grandchild staring at her for an answer, Galina turned away back to her meal preparation. Satisfied, Mother had been shamed to a satisfactory level for the time being; Hanala sighed and turned back to her niece, who still appeared very doubtful. Considering the loss she endured, it was expected that she would react like this.

"Everything is absolutely fine with me; you shouldn't have to worry for me as well, as sweet as it may be," she added. "I'm going to be right here, bothering you for a good long time."

Without warning, Hanala blew Saleb's bangs everywhere into her face, and then tapped her nose as though she too was just a child. Saleb squealed out a laugh as she tried to escape her Aunt's sudden annoyance, then warm embrace. Satisfied the topic was dropped, Hanala let go of the child and stood up, ushering her to the table where Mother was setting up her breakfast.

"So I was thinking… Would you be up for some visitors?" Hanala spoke to Saleb as she took a seat and watched as the girl ate. "I was thinking about inviting Hedda and her siblings over for a couple hours. They don't exactly have many friends in the fleet… Would be nice if they got to see a familiar face, right?"

Saleb looked up, her expression somewhat conflicted by what Hanala was suggesting. Slowly, however, she nodded her head.

"Okay… but do you have to invite their mother?" Saleb asked her Auntie, a note of nervousness in her tone. "She's so mean and scary. She hurt Hedda."

Looking to her Mother, who had heard the incident a week or so ago with Magda exploded at all of those mother's that she was friends with. Hanala turned back to the child and smiled in sympathy.

"Her Mother has to come, I'm sorry," Hanala replied. Pausing for a moment, she added. "Just… remember that children are guests this time? They're not very interested in holo-games and all that. They like to play games with one another… all sorts of fun human games. Do you think you could keep up?"

Saleb nodded enthusiastically as she returned to her meal. Hanala smiled privately, just like her Father, she was always up for a challenge.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

How in the hell they had survived the better part of thirteen hours of sustained battle against an enemy many times superior in numbers, Hauptmann Gerhard Feyerabend did not know. All that he did know was that his Company was now down to half strength and on the verge of collapse.

The Heer detachment to this SS mission had been two companies, one belonging to him and the other belonging to Hauptmann Kurt Schumacher. Almost as soon as the two men realized that there was no rebellion targets in the town, and that the SS had come here to simply burn down the town and distract the encroaching Wehrmacht rebels from reaching the Ruhr, Schumacher, always the hot head, had ordered his men to attack. Outnumbered and outgunned, Schumacher told Feyerabend to save as many civilians as he could while his company covered Feyerabend's men.

That was the last time he heard from Schumacher, as far as he knew, the Schumacher's men were overwhelmed by the 4:1 ratio against him. By then the SS Battalion had surrounded Feyerabend and his Company, cutting off the civilian escape routes. The last of the civilians they had with them, three hundred or so, were now taking shelter in what was the last safe place in Weilheim –the town hall.

As they were pushed back to the hall, Feyerabend pulled the last of his company and set up a perimeter. All of them preparing to make a final stand as attack after attack hit their line. They were doomed, but they would not go down without making the traitorous murderers pay dearly for their willingness to destroy Germany in order to root out the rebellion.

Next to Feyerabend, an NCO collapsed behind the rubble he was in. He scrambled up and fired his MP-40 on the assaulting SS attack.

"Herr Hauptmann, the mobile artillery has been silent for a while!" he shouted as he ducked back behind cover, reaching into his ammunition belt to find a fresh magazine for his submachine gun.

Feyerabend did not reply as he leaned around the corner, expending round after round from his Walther, before pulling back to reload. Perhaps the SS ran out of shells. They had been indiscriminately shelling the town as a part of their terror campaign.

Feyerabend's company suddenly had to duck for cover as the fire on them picked up. This was it. The SS were launching their final assault on the position. It would all be over soon. He and the last of his men geared up, ready for the final wave to crash against them.

It was a wave that did not come.

Bullets flew at the SS men from their rear at every one of Feyerabend's flank, cutting down dozens of the advance attack on them. Caught in a sudden and unexpected crossfire, the SS ducked into whatever cover they could find, relieving fire from off Feyerabend and his tired men and onto the as yet unseen newcomers. It bought them enough time for the last of the civilians to take cover in the city hall and for the company to stretch out, thinning their line but providing more vantage points to shoot from.

Feyerabend watched as three more of his MG-42 crews set up their positions closer to the front line and begin firing bursts at the bastards, finally properly suppressing them and forcing the SS to turn their attention to the newcomers, who by the sound of it were confined to small arms fire. The SS's response was chaotic, panicked. Something huge had kicked them in their collective ass and now they were the ones who were in a world of shit.

Feyerabend nearly laughed. From being surrounded by a superior enemy, to the superior numbers of the SS being surrounded by an even larger enemy. It was Darwin extracting some sort of karmic revenge on the SS-

Suddenly the SS position in front of him was hit by a volley of explosions that turned the pocket of SS into a smoking crater, ending the fighting right there and then. The only left was the occasional rifle shots in the distance and the screams from the nearby wounded SS men. The fighting continued around the lines, but the front line was cleared. Around him, Feyerabend's men cheered as more and more volleys hit the SS encirclement, thinning them out until their guns at long last silenced.

Breathing hard, Feyerabend stood up from his place. His action imitated by the rest of his men. Quietly, he and his men moved towards the wounded and dead former compatriots. They paid no attention to their cries. Instead, the Hauptmann led his men to the corner of the three way street.

He was not willing to expose himself just yet to the newcomers. For all he knew they would fight him as well for being involved with what happened here today, whether he defended the civilians the best he could or not. Realizing the risks, Gerhard took a deep breath.

 _ **"We're coming out! We want to talk to you!"**_ he shouted around the corner.

There was no answer at first. Then, after several moments, a voice shouted back.

 _ **"Only your Commandant!"**_

Glancing back to his men, Feyerabend gestured to them to return to their positions as he holstered his pistol. After a good long moment to gather his courage, Feyerabend closed his eyes, held hands up high and stepped around the corner.

The Hauptmann opened his eyes as he realized he was not dead. Standing there with his hands up, he found himself looking at a company behind cover. Rumbling with the new Heer men was one of the six Wespe Self Propelled Guns that the SS brought with them, stained with the blood of its former crew. Standing on the top of the Wespe was what appeared to be a Panzer commander screaming at the crater and the many corpses he had just made, he was jumping up and down like it had been a football match.

One by one, the new arrivals stood up, all of them peculiar to him. They wore Afrika Theatre desert uniforms, all of them appearing utterly exhausted. Some slumped to the ground; others marched forward, scrounging off the dead SS men and his unlucky boys. Had they not have come just in time, he would have complained. Any protest vanished when he noticed they were only interested in taking ammunition pouches, clips and magazines from weapons.

Looking at his own boys, they knew his silent order to stand down. Like the new comers, they came out of their positions or laid down to rest. Snapping off his Stahlhelm and placing it under his arm, his hand touching his sweat stained baling head. Steadying himself as the adrenaline continued to flow though him, Gerhard went to join the first man of his equal standing he saw.

The man he spotted had been turned away; he was speaking quickly and quietly to three men and what appeared to have been a female. The female looked away and caught notice of him approaching, she nudged the man next to her, and then the Hauptmann in question turned around, his face grimy. But still he offered Gerhard a mild smile. The others he was with backed off, but remained watching. It was clear that they weren't so quick to accept him, even though they risked their lives to save him and his men. Understandable, considering they were opposing each other.

Stopping before the Hauptmann, Feyerabend came to a halt and saluted, the other Hauptmann doing the same as he.

"Hauptmann Gerhard Feyerabend..." Gerhard introduced himself to the fellow Hauptmann. "I am unsure who we're apart of anymore, but we're sure as hell happy to have you here."

The younger Hauptmann smiled and offered his hand to Gerhard, who took it gratefully.

"Helmut Mann, 438th Regiment, attached to the 86th Infantry Division," the young man named Mann spoke to him. "We found some civilians you sent away from here and thought you guys were alright by the sounds of it."

" _Attached_?" Feyerabend inquired. "To who?"

The smile on Mann's face grew wider. He shrugged causally as he turned back to look at his boys.

"Technically to Helmuth Weidling, but we're very independent," He informed Gerhard. "We're a rather mixed unit of Afrika Korps vets, half mad Sixth Army survivors and Waffen-SS. They don't call us 'The Scraps' for nothing-"

" _Waffen-SS?"_ Gerhard repeated, cutting him off.

This unit filled with rebels against the SS was actually taking in Waffen-SS men into their ranks? What in the hell was going on here! After today he had wanted absolutely nothing to do with the political army of the National Socialist Party.

"Yes, they're apart of the regiment," Helmut Mann spoke, breaking the fifty year old captain from his angered state. "Their whole branch of the SS are in sort of a state of limbo at the moment, the heads of the Waffen-SS branch are deciding who to support and the Wehrmacht chiefs are trying to figure out what to do with several hundred thousand men they can't exactly throw into a jail right now as most of them are filling the holes in our Eastern Front. Anyways, all these scraps are thrown together and held together by our Oberst."

At the mention of the Oberst, Feyerabend stood up straighter and attempted to dust himself off.

"I should like to thank him," he requested as pulled his field cap out of his pocket and pulled it over his head.

The statement made Mann appear suddenly uncomfortable. He glanced to his men, who looked just as uncomfortable at the mention of the Oberst. Looking past Gerhard, he pointed off in the direction of the torn apart SS position.

"Well, he's over there…" Mann spoke slowly. "...dealing with wounded..."

Sure enough there was a relatively huge man standing by himself, dressed in Oberst colours, his pistol drawn on one of the SS wounded, who was trying to crawl away. A shot rang out from his pistol, putting the wounded man out of his misery and making the Hauptmann jump.

Never before had he seen an execution, not in this war, not in the 1914 war, and here this Oberst was, executing the wounded as though it had been a common practice; as though he had done it many times before.

The Hauptmann named Mann flinched as well. He was just as disturbed by it as Gerhard had been.

"You'll get used to him… eventually…" Mann explained to Feyerabend. "Whatever you do, be honest and forthright about your allegiances and do not under any circumstances, shirk your responsibilities. He will shoot you dead right where you stand. He's done it before; he'll be likely doing it again. Make sure it's not you."

Underneath the two Hauptmann's, an NCO laughed out loud as he was ammunition bags off a dead SS rifleman.

"Good old faithful Joachim Hoch!" he exclaimed grimly. "He kills more of our countrymen then the enemy! Not only is he not punished, he makes friends with the General staff!"

Feyerabend looked back to Mann, who nodded grimly. Clenching his mouth, he turned to face the Oberst, whose pistol just went off again. With all his squirming pushed down, he walked towards the Oberst, his appearance becoming clearer and clearer to him. He was young, extremely young, as in barely midway out his twenties and commanding a six thousand man regiment young.

Whatever the hell this kid had done to get to this point; it had to have been significant. Joachim Hoch was a somewhat familiar name. He could not quite place it.

"Herr Hoch?" Gerhard called out as he stood at attention behind the giant, whose back was turned. "Hauptmann Feyerabend. My men and I are at your disposal."

The Oberst did not reply, instead he shot the man sprawled on the ground, making the Hauptmann jump again and go faint. This was wrong on so many levels. None of these men weren't masterminds behind Operation Hyena – the planned underground offensive meant to destabilize the foot hold the Wehrmacht had in the south. They were following orders… orders that apparently included organizing mass murder against their own countrymen…

Okay, he was wrong so perhaps they had it coming to them.

"I wanted to thank you for coming to Weilheim's rescue," he started again. "You didn't have to do it-"

The Hauptmann was cut off as a pistol round shot through the back of Hoch's newest victim. The body lurked up and down and went still. Hoch stepped over it, his eyes turned onto the next nearest wounded soldier. Gerhard looked at the body he had shot and stepped over it, following the Oberst as he looked for wounded to put down.

"When I agreed to serve with the interest of the Party in mind, I was under the belief that the Wehrmacht was small minority rebels undermining the country and the war," He informed the silent Oberst. "I never intended on coming here to burn this place down as the SS apparently were."

Hoch stopped before another wounded man, sprawled on his back, moaning incoherently. Drawing his Walther back up and aiming it at the head of the wounded rifleman, Joachim Hoch pulled the trigger, only to realize that the slide was thrown back, the sidearm out of ammunition. Patting his pistol belt for another magazine and finding nothing there, Hoch finally turned back to Feyerabend, his eyes as lifeless as the dead.

"Hand over your spare magazines," he requested.

Gerhard locked his eyes at the Oberst who stared dispassionately back at him. Slowly, the Hauptmann shook his head.

"Herr Hoch, I cannot in good conscious hand you any of my ammunition," Feyerabend spoke firmly, as though he were the one who held the superior rank. "I do not condone what the SS have done here, but I also cannot condone your blatant murder of the wounded."

Joachim Hoch was not moved, nor was he amused.

"Noted," he responded simply. "Hand over your ammunition."

Before Gerhard could tell the young Oberst what he should go do to himself for placing the Hauptmann in the position of an executioners assistant, he was spared the escalation by Helmut Mann who, refusing to look the Oberst in the eye, handed the man a stack of about five magazines before pulling Feyerabend away.

"I'm glad you're here…" Mann muttered as they were out of ear shot. "I could always use another voice of reason. Come, we'll clean the rest of the town out."

Like clockwork, another pistol round rang out.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Can I tempt you with another drink, Magda?"

Looking away from supervising her children as they played with Saleb, Magda Goebbels focused onto Hanala, who held a bottle of human gin, one of many bottles which Joachim had left behind. Magda nodded, and allowed Hanala to take her glass. This wasn't an activity she would have done with other quarian mothers, but Magda was quick to tell her that this was the sort of thing German women did when they got together with their children – allow the kids to wind themselves down, while the women had a chance to relieve themselves of their pressures by having a few drinks.

If this was standard motherhood for Germans, it was little wonder why Joachim was so fucked up. He had only once mentioned how heavily he remembered his mother drank heavily, but self-deprecatingly mentioned it was probably because how terrible he was. Hanala torn in her opinion on human mother, on one hand they were doting, dedicated to their children, on the other she had heard that they drank and smoke during pregnancy every so often. That as sheer insanity Sis they not understand the damaging effects their vices could do to the child?

Other than those issues, Hanala was quite surprised at how quickly Magda Goebbels had latched herself onto her. Whether it was out of a true sense of friendship, or that it was because Hanala was the only quarian woman on the fleet who could seem to empathize with her was still up in the air. Although her reputation was marred by her unwavering allegiance to Hitler, and a seemingly unperturbed attitude towards the horrors she was being taught by others about the regime she supported, Hanala had to admit that she kind of liked her. She reminded her of a much more reserved Lene Langer.

As it also turned out, Magda was significantly less vapid as she thought she would be. It was the opposite, really. Sharp and quick with her tongue, she was abnormally able to absorb into her new surroundings, more so then Joachim at least. It took ages to teach him to use quarian technology and it took fighting him at every turn not to act like a dork around the new tools she gave him. Magda, on the other hand, was absorbing her new resources like they had been a second nature. She attributed to her genuine interest in electronics stemming from her volunteer factory work in a radio manufacturing plant.

"What happened to her parents?"

Hanala's musings about the woman were erased from her focus. The question, although should have been expected, had still caught Hanala off guard. Magda's curiosity was unending. Hanala should have known better then to have not anticipated it.

"She's clearly not yours," Magda spoke as she looked into the gin she was sipping. "You don't give the vibe of a Mother just yet, more along the lines of an older sister, which I might add, isn't wise."

Hanala stared at her hands resting onto her knees. Exhaling slowly, Hanala found her words.

"My Brother and his wife were killed by the SS on the day you were brought here," Hanala explained, her voice strained as she forced it to remain neutral. "They were not alone. A lot of good men, women… children… they lost their lives in the immediate aftermath."

Deciding not to press her grievances as it was not in everyone's best interest to state the obvious difference in political opinion between Hanala and Magda Goebbels, who was considered by many to be the First Lady of the Third Reich. Hanala looked up to Magda, who was still impassively staring at her. She was analyzing Hanala.

"I… I don't know how I can explain all of what happened to her," Hanala spoke her greatest fear aloud to the human. "I mean, she understands that her parents are gone, but she's not going to be a little girl for long. She's going to want to know what happened," One day… one day she's going to find out that I left her Mother with her executioner, or that I didn't move fast enough to pull everyone out, getting her Father killed. She will hate me when she realizes that they are dead because of me."

Hanala's eyes wandered towards Saleb, who was sitting on the floor of the living area, looking up as she spoke to Holdine. Hanala sighed and turned away.

"I… I am not sure if I can do this. I need to do it… but I don't think I'm capable…" Hanala admitted out loud, in barely more than a whisper.

As she fell silent, she looked up to Magda who was sitting there in silence. The human mother was staring hard into her eyes, unblinking. It made Hanala uncomfortable, and Hanala had killed people before.

"I won't pretend that I understand everything you are going through, or that I can find a lot of sympathy for what happened," Magda spoke, breaking their shared silence. "Retribution for what your people have done to mine should have been expected… If you knock the support beams of a building down while you're still inside, then you should expect not to escape the collapse _unscathed_."

Hanala looked up furiously; about to violently react to the casual justification of the murder of nearly two hundred quarians, including Rael, Veyare and the entire Langer family, she noticed Magda was not done yet.

"That said, I can tell you one thing for certain: You are that girl's Mother now. It does not matter if she finds out and hates you for it ten years down the road, what matters now is today," Magda continued on, leaving Hanala defusing her temper. Her parents are dead, and they are not coming back for their child. A daughter needs to have that special bond between Mother and Daughter, someone they can confide in, someone they can learn from. Whether you are ready or not is irrelevant when that little girl needs you."

Magda huffed as she turned away, allowing Hanala a moment of privacy to blink the water out of her eyes. Magda's words scratched along a nerve that had made her bottom lip tremble. She would not break down in tears in front of easily one of the most influential human women in the world. Magda was right… she never thought she would say such a thing, but she was right about this.

"My Mother had me out of wedlock, you see; this in a time when such things were utterly, utterly taboo," Magda admitted suddenly, as Hanala controlled her breathing. "She resented me for all sorts of things and in so many ways; for being a burden during a tough time for her, being adored by my Father and my Step-Father more than she ever was… even for being more attractive and educated than she was. I know what having an emotionally distant and bitter mother does… and I have tried every day not to be like her with my children."

Hanala's eyes darted across Magda's face, looking to see if what she had said was true. She saw no deception in her feature. The story sounded somewhat familiar. A distant, bitter mother, a child who did not get the love she should have received. _Keelah_ , Magda Goebbels was an older, female Joachim Hoch. What the hell as with National Socialists and having terrible childhood?

Magda crossed one leg over the other, her hand brushing off her long skirt. Talking about her past beyond her National Socialist years was extremely rare by all accounts. She came off as an intensely private when it came to her origins. All that Hanala really knew was that Magda had been married before at a really young age.

"For Saleb's sake… do not dwell on what might go wrong years from now, or what you cannot change in the past, or you could end up like… her," Magda pressed, barely able to hide her malice at the mention of her Mother. "Dwell on today, plan for tomorrow, but always make sure she understands that she is unconditionally loved by you…"

Magda fell silent as she went to get her drink off the table, leaving Hanala alone to stew in what the Mother of seven was telling her. It all made sense. The only one that could control Sale's reaction to how everything happened was the girl. Hanala had no control over that. It was time to step up as Magda, and more subtly, her Father had told her. She was Saleb's Mother now and her few connections to her past. She would do all in her power to make that girl understand that.

As Hanala thought about this, Magda's head tilted to the side as she turned her focus back to her pondering host.

"You know, not all members of the National Socialists are the blood suckers and monster's, as I imagine you may justifiably think that they are," Magda spoke again as she set down her glass. "Most are ordinary men and women who feared the surge in Bolshevik activity in Germany shortly after the last war. Bavaria was briefly controlled by Jewish Bolshevists until the Freikorps marched in and dealt with them properly. The National Socialist Party was the natural evolution, the legal means to defend the country from this threat."

Hanala ignored the sickening sensation building up in the pit of her stomach. Just as Magda seemed to offer Hanala a genuinely thoughtful reminder of her duties for Saleb, she retreated back into the shroud of National Socialist justifications and blaming her countries ills on scapegoats. Had she no shame? Hanala would never, ever find anything admirable in National Socialism.

" _Jewish Bolsheviks_?" Hanala repeated, not bothering to hide her malice at the observation.

The violent rejection of Magda's words made the woman frown, as though Hanala was supposed to have agreed with her sentiment.

"I am so _sorry_ the truth is so hard to hear, Hanala," Magda replied in a simper as she went for her cigarettes. "The leaders of the instigators in the revolt were Jewish or foreign born radicals in Bolshevik Russia's pocket. Much of the initial Bolshevik government in Russia were Jews. It's these people that lead to the Führer's stance against the whole race. It's why the rest of us rallied around him."

It was Hanala's turn to frown.

"Is this you talking, or is this your husband?" Hanala found herself needing to know.

Through her glass of gin, Magda smirked, her shoulders shrugging casually.

"A little of both, Joseph was a real bastard, but rarely was he wrong in his observations," Magda pressed on. "Sometimes I think about what he said and wonder if he was really that wrong."

Hanala stared at Magda disbelievingly. She was half tempted to drag Magda back down to Earth in order to visit one or two of the Concentration Camp's that Joachim had to liberate. She made it a mental note if Magda's stance remained the same in the near future when Europe was stable again.

"You are a very bright woman, Magda. You don't seem to be particularly filled with hatred. I don't understand why you would allow him a moment of your praise," Hanala had to question the woman. "He wasn't some misguided man. He spent years, decades filling unassuming Germans heads with lies and half-truths that he would spin into a quasi-reality. Men like him and that Julius Streicher were the ones who dehumanized the enemies of the Reich to the point that not only was it permissible to kill in large numbers, but expected. Defending a liar's legacy… it's unbecoming of you. So why-"

 **"Because I have to believe that the Father of my children had some good in him!"** Magda nearly shrieked back at Hanala, catching the quarian off guard.

The laughter echoing through the ship fell silent as Magda's shout caught the attention of the children.

In a matter of seconds, Magda's son, Helmut entered the lounge, and like a little soldier, came to the aid of his Mother. Usually shy, he stared at Hanala, until Magda side hugged her son and kissed his cheek, silently dismissing the boy with the words _'you go on and play'._

Helmut lingered for another moment, before leaving the room. Hanala thought it was sweet. Magda, on the other hand, reverted back into her state of apathy as she inhaled the last mouthful of cigarette smoke before placing it in an improvised plate ashtray and reached for another one.

"I apologize for my temper… but tell me are you so deluded enough to think that I _like_ him still? That I _love_ him?" Magda hissed as soon as Helmut was out of range. "I know he said _awful_ things, put _awful_ ideas into the Führer's head, I know because I was there. He was a terrible man to me; indifferent to my feelings, was unfaithful to me whenever he could be…"

Magda trailed off, swallowing a mouthful of her gin.

"Despite these flaws, he was a still a loving, doting Father, who would do anything for them… and even me," she admitted. "He was murdered in front of two of his daughters. If my children are to survive the coming years, they need the illusion that he was simply their loving Father… They will understand the truth, the truth about him soon enough..."

Magda reverted back to silence as she leaned over to help herself to another drink. Her words had left Hanala absolutely stunned by her honestly. This was Magda Goebbels, the woman who had refused to speak to anyone other than her children for a month and a half after she was tricked into leaving Earth for the fleet. She was not a woman who admitted weakness; she was certainly not one to admit that her husband had been having an affair.

"Why would he be unfaithful to you?" Hanala questioned aloud, shuffling in her seat. "You're quite beautiful. It just seems so… off."

Magda turned back to Hanala, her lips quirked into a rare smile. She appeared to be rather pleased by Hanala's observations. It was not flattery. It was the truth. For a woman reaching her forties and having had seven children, one of them old enough to serve in the Luftwaffe, she was impressed by how well she held herself together.

The conversation was cut off as screams of children flew by them. Poor Saleb blew by them with three girls hot on her tail. Their hands extended like they were playing the game of tag. Her eyes wide open as she screamed in terror. Hanala chuckled and watched as Magda lit up a cigarette.

"The answer is simple… I got older," She spoke again as the laughter vanished from the room, exhaling her cigarette. "At first it hurt. I went to the Führer and my knees and in tears, begging him to permit a divorce after I caught Joseph and… and that hussy, Czech actress whore... the Führer, though… he could not abide a sudden divorce, but he was not unfeeling to my situation either."

She trailed off. It was clear that although this was still bothering her, she was unwilling to admit it aloud. Hanala would not prod, not when this was something extremely personal she was sharing.

"The Führer told Joseph to end his relationship with the actress; he then kicked the whore out of the country, nearly expelled Joseph from his Ministry position and would have gave me our property if I so asked," Magda said finally, finding her voice. "He decided what for the time being, Joseph was only permitted near the children at my leisure. The Führer, in his own wisdom asked me to hold off on continuing the divorce for a year to see if we could save it. If we couldn't save our marriage, then he would draw up an extremely generous divorce terms."

Magda closed her eyes as she inhaled sharply.

"I _hated_ him. Oh, how I _hated_ him, Hanala," She admitted, her words filled a quiet malicious by the remembrance of her own humiliation. "However I could not place my hate before my children and neither could I abandon the ideal of Party purity by painting that son-of-a-bitch as an adulterer in the public's eye. Instead I gave them their Father back."

All of Hanala's annoyances at Magda's display of loyalty were vanishing once again. She thought that she understood her better now. The only person that appeared to be loyal to her was Hitler. Much of her recent life had been so focused on such a powerful person, that she would cling onto the delusion that Hitler had done know wrong. This didn't excuse her, Hitler was not a mind controller, but it helped Hanala make some sense out of her.

"Well, did he remain faithful to you after that?" Hanala inquired as Magda smoked. "I imagine being shouted down by Adolf Hitler isn't pleasant."

Magda did not look to Hanala as she huffed in apparent amusement.

"No, he did not heed such conventional wisdom. You would think he would know better, but no. If anything Joseph's affairs picked up speed as his power grew," Magda said idly, almost sounding like she was dazed. "By then I was too terribly tired from the children. I had a comfortable life; I was at the Führer's side… I did not care anymore. He had for the most part stopped touching me unless he wanted another child… Hedda and Heidrun for example…"

Hanala blinked. _Keelah_ , and her parents wondered why she didn't want a child herself. Thought a concept of not having a control over her life was impossibly cruel to her sensibilities. Perhaps that was why Magda seemed so cold with her children. She loved them, but it was a burdened love from what she saw.

"So he held onto his mistresses, but after a while it was mutual. He slept around, I found my own… _companions…_ " Magda spoke delicately… _coyly_. "All those good looking young men in their pretty uniforms and stern demeanour, they are very hard to ignore. They started relatively my age, and my interest grew younger." Magda huffed, and a small laugh as she shook her head.

"After what that silver tongued monster did to bring me here, I'll never go that young again, I swear that much to you," she confided to Hanala, who sat there dumbly.

The colour vanished in Hanala's cheeks as she deducted what Magda quickly. She did what with… _him_?

"Wait a moment… you mean that you… you and _Joachim Hoch_?" Hanala breathed, her eyes searching Magda's for the truth.

Magda could only smile deviously at first. She was extremely proud of what she did by the looks of it. Hunting younger game was apparently her favourite sport.

"I will admit I was rather proud of it myself," she elaborated to the stunned quarian. "I had not thought I would do it, but armless or not, he was rather… interesting to say the least."

Hanala barely registered Magda's self-congratulatory statement. She was not a child; she was not one to get jealous or possessive. If anything she was impressed. She could hardly believe Joachim used seduction to get himself better situated. Perhaps he was cleverer then she gave him credit for. Considering the chaos that resulted in response to his duties, the last thing on his mind to her was that he locked lips with the First Lady of the Third Reich.

Hanala looked over Magda, she was still smirking. She was likely thinking about the thrill of hooking up with someone two decades her junior. Yet again Hanala told herself to calm down.

"Hanala?"

The call back to reality came from Magda. Hanala focused once again and controlled her temper. She recollected herself and offered a faint smile in return.

"A word of advice, Magda," Hanala found her words as she looked to the older woman. "Joachim Hoch is… well… _I'm_ seeing him. So the next time you see him, kindly keep yourself off of him? For my sake?"

It took a moment for what Hanala had said to register in Magda's comprehension. She sat there, stunned for a good moment as she realized the implication of Joachim having apparently hooked up with both of them: One on purpose, the other as a part of his cover.

Magda, to her credit, placed her hands over her mouth as she realized what she had done. She appeared completely ashamed as Hanala held her eyes on the older woman. Hanala didn't know what to do. She wanted to be angry, but she didn't want to stoop into a stereotype, at the same time she found this absolutely hilarious, but did not want to laugh in the face of the utterly embarrassed Mother of seven.

After a moment, Magda pulled her hand from her mouth. It was clear now just how mortified she was.

"I am sorry for my past behaviour, then," Magda spoke wistfully as she slid closer to lay her hand onto Hanala's. "Before you get any ideas… Joachim told me several times that he was married… or was it engaged. Anyways, he was not exactly afforded an opportunity to say no to me. When I see someone I like, I follow Joseph's example and just sort of _take_ it…"

Hanala could only really shrug.

"You couldn't have known," Hanala murmured to herself moodily, as she looked down to her hands buried in her lap. "Perhaps I'll tease him about it… if I ever see him again, that is…"

Ashing her cigarette, Magda leaned against the side of the couch, silent as she looked over Hanala, she was in the state of debate. Downing the last of her gin, Magda set the glass down and turned back to her host.

"When was the last time that you saw him?" She inquired softly.

Hanala ignored the dull pain in her chest as the question resonated in her. She leaned over to sip her own drink as she thought about Joachim out there, apparently now back in Germany, fighting everything that stood in his way, all the while never properly saying good bye to her at least. The thought of him… well…perishing without understanding that there was still one person out there that wanted him was eating away at her conscious.

"Several months…" was all she could say without choking up.

As Hanala fell into a bitter, suppressed state of silence, there was a soft pat on her knee, bringing her focus back to Magda once again.

"You have my sympathy, but that's… not exactly, what I was asking," Magda spoke plainly, her lips curved as coyly as she had been earlier. "When was the last time he… you know…"

It took a moment to understand what Magda was hinting at. Hanala could not help but chuckle.

"Had sex? It was Mid-January, the night before we went to Aguni Lahwa to battle the Americans. After everything that happened, being wounded, losing so much together, he hasn't touched me since," She admitted, unashamedly candid about what was happening in their quasi-hiatus. "I would be lying if I said it wasn't driving me insane. Not so much about the sex… which is… well… Oh Keelah, I cannot describe it… but it's more than that. Just being in his presence the way… the way we use to be together..."

She trailed off as she rubbed her neck. She was rambling on about the details that Magda had no need to know. She watched uncomfortably as Magda's eyes travelled over Hanala, her face filled with a grimace, like she was struggling to find something remotely feminine about her.

"I imagine cutting your hair like a boy hasn't exactly helped your prospects with him," Magda spoke briskly. "You have next to no breasts. The only thing that keeps you from being a boy is genitals and curves…"

Recoiling in shock, Hanala touched her hair with one hand, and then her right breast with her other hand self-consciously. Where in the hell did that come from? Joachim liked her body… didn't he? Before she could put a lot of thought into it, Magda had stood up and grabbed the smaller woman by the wrist, pulling her to her seat. She let go to flatten the hem of her long skirt.

"If getting you some private time with Joachim Hoch is what I need to do in order to pay you back for my actions, then it is the least I can do," the human said, offering her arm. "Now come along, show me your wardrobe. I hope to God that you have things I can work with."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It took another two hours before Weilheim's south side was pacified.

It was not that there was a lot of resistance. Token mostly before the last SS men gave up. Whatever the hell Schumacher and his Company had done, it was enough to tear apart the SS companies they were stationed with at a great personal sacrifice. Of the 243 men of the Heer Company, only about 40 of them had survived, half of them too injured to be moved from the town they sought to defend. Joachim had to admit, the sacrifice had impressed him

With the prisoners secured, the officers executed, the wounded being treated and the vehicles and ammunition being salvaged before the fires of Weilheim took them, Joachim left the company of his men to inspect the burning city on his own. The smoke and ash was billowing into the sky and raining over them, the sounds of screaming from the civilians as they cried for their dead over the cries of the wounded. The town was as haunted as any Yugoslavian, Ukrainian or Russian city he marched into. The war in the east was being brought home. These people, living in relative peace and quiet was getting a taste of what the war was like.

He paused for a moment as he noticed one of his men, the one who picked up the stray. He and his Ukrainian pet were helping an elderly woman out of her broken home, blood running down the side of her face, which the Ukrainian woman placed her hand over. She locked eyes briefly with Joachim before turning back to the woman.

He continued down the ruined streets, stepping over the bodies of the SS, Heer and civilians. He ignored, with great contempt, the crying of a mother cradling what appeared to have been half of her son. He had been likely blown apart during the Wespe shelling.

His hatred for the civilians grew exponentially. This could all have been avoided; all of it avoided had they not been swallowed up by the charms of Adolf Hitler. He did not force a revolution, he threw no coup and he killed none of his rivals. He was elected by people like this woman. Too blind to see what the long term intentions the man had. Her son was dead before he actually died. Whether by the coup or fighting the Russians, it did not matter.

Stopping his musings and his body, Joachim's eyes noticed something strange. There before him was a pool of blood with no body covering it. Instead, there were bloodied track marks… like someone had tried to drag themselves away. Following the trail for a bit, his detective work heard the sound of moaning and scraping.

Joachim looked up to the source of the scraping; sure enough one of the wounded SS men was attempting to crawl out of the street to hide. Judging from how murky the blood trail he was leaving behind, it was clear the man was delusional enough to think he'd survive, or like an old dog, he simply wanted to find a quiet place to curl up and die on his own.

Frowning, Joachim stepped over the bodies of two women clutching reach other in death and drew his pistol as he moved through the rubble to deal with the son of a bitch. Hearing the boots behind him, the crawling man emitted a whimper and tried to speed up.

Not allowing him an ounce of sympathy, Joachim rolled the man onto his back so that the bastard could look into Joachim's eyes as he put a round through his forehead. The face of the SS man was covered in blood and tears, his hands gnarled up into tight balls as he covered his face from Joachim

 _"P-lease, I-I need your help,"_ he sobbed out loud to the Oberst.

Joachim clicked back the hammer. Shooting him would be doing the dumb shit a favour now. His stomach was almost split open by what appeared to have been a grenade landing in his lap. Still, there was no way in hell that Joachim could do anything other than put this man down.

Still, Joachim wavered, his Walther still hovering over the man. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, Joachim's conscious if there was still one, told him to hesitate. The face of the dying man looked familiar… sometime in his old life this man had prominence in it.

Joachim tilted his head. Though the lower part of his face was stained with blood, he could faintly recognize him. It took him bending over to wipe the blood off his mouth that he recognized the face. On his chin, a small scar left by a fencing duel. Not a Mensur scar as impressive as Otto Skorzeny, but an accident on this man's part.

" _Uhlmann_?" he questioned the mortally wounded creature. " _Ernest Uhlmann_?"

The fear in his expression vanished slightly as he realized he was not alone, that he would die with someone who at least knew him. Squinting his eyes, the dying man forced to focus on Joachim. Joachim lowered the pistol slightly so that he could give the man an unrestricted view.

 _"H-Hoch? Joachim Hoch?"_ He breathed excitedly. " _O-oh my G-god, I am so happy to see your face. They… they shot me, I hurt… I need your help."_

Staring at his dying former schoolmate carefully, Joachim exhaled and tucked his pistol back into his holster. He would not shoot this one.

Removing his jacket and cap as he rolled up his sleeves, Joachim bent down onto his knees and carefully sat Uhlmann up with one arm, his human hand falling low to the stomach penetration. Ernest winced and moaned as pain cut through him, but did not complain. Joachim wasn't sure why he was doing this -applying pressure if only to delude the dying man that he was able to be saved.

Ernest coughed violently, blood pooling from his mouth. Wincing at the familiar sight he was witnessing, Joachim silently leaned Uhlmann's head to the side so that he didn't choke and watched as the blood drained from his mouth.

 _"T-Thank you…"_ he rasped, his hands falling to his side as he laboured to breath. He turned back, his eyes scanning Joachim for a moment. _"W-where's your uniform? You're in the wrong c-c-colours."_

Joachim could not help himself; he offered a rare smile to his former compatriot.

"I changed services, Ernest. I'm with the Heer now," he admitted to his former classmate. "I joined the other side long ago."

Like clockwork, Ernest's expression turned into a look of fear. He was laying in the arms of an enemy, not a friend.

 _"Are… are you going to kill me?"_

Joachim remained silent for a good long moment as he pondered Uhlmann's fear.

"No..." he finally replied. "No, I suppose I won't…"

Joachim went dead silent as Ernest cried out in sudden, gut wrenching agony. The shrapnel must have shifted inside of him. Joachim tightened his grip around the room as though he could stop the bleeding that was drowning Ernst from the inside.

As Ernest babbled incoherently, Joachim found himself with so many questions, yet too completely numb to ask them. He wanted to know why someone of his intelligence, someone who had joined the SS under completely different reasons then Joachim had would not have surrendered to the inevitable, but instead took part in this attack, and God knows what out.

Ernest Uhlmann was never a believer as Joachim had been. Unlike Joachim, who had the Langer's, wealthy for several generations, and his own family holdings, Uhlmann's family, as far as he knew, wasn't well off and politically independent as one could get in the Post-Enabling Act Germany. Ernest was in the organization solely for a social and financial means. If anything it should have been opposite –Joachim lying in the pool of blood while Ernest was berating him.

But that wasn't how it was going down. Life was funny like that.

God… life… whoever you wanted to blame for it. Both were clear examples of having a Schadenfreude's sense of humour.

" _I miss Kiel…"_ Ernest whimpered to his friend. _"I-I need home. Jo…chim. I need home."_

Biting his lip as he fought the inevitable reminders that he was homeless, and the inevitability of what was about to happen next, Joachim did not reply.

 _"Herr Oberst?"_

Joachim looked up and found two Medics standing over him, like Joachim they too were covered in blood. Their expressions were filled with an understanding that there was nothing to be done for Uhlmann, other than provide him with a morphine injection and wait by him until he died.

Not wanting to waste the Medics time nor resources, Joachim shook his head, dismissing the two of them.

The two Medics looked to one another, and then clambered to the side of the source of the closest moaning they could hear; leaving Joachim and Ernest alone with the terrible inevitability.

With great care, the Oberst slid out of where he sat and laid Uhlmann down flat. It would be a matter of time before the shrapnel wounds moved and cut him internal further inside his perforated gut would make the pain that much more unbearable. As much as he ought to have drawn his pistol and finished him, Joachim could not do it.

 _"What's happening 'chim,"_ He heard below him, Ernest's body trembling. _"W-what are you doing to me?"_

He did not reply to Ernest, he knew what he had to do.

Steeling himself, Joachim reached down and with one hand, covered Uhlmann's mouth, his other, pinching his nostrils. He watched in silent horror as the Uhlmann's eyes widened and he begun to shake. His body attempted to throw Joachim off him. Hoch pressed his knee into Ernest's chest, keeping him still under him. He winced as he ignored the bite that he was attempting to damage his gloved hands.

Leaning down, Joachim forced the panicked suffocating man to look up into his eyes. With all his effort, he forced himself to lighten his eyes into an expression of calming serenity, his lips breaking into a faint smile for his former comrade. He did not want his old friend to panic in his last moments. If there was one good thing about the SS, they taught you that death was not a scary thing to endure.

It was a lesson that Ernest Uhlmann wasn't expecting to live out.

"This is a good way to die…" Joachim comforted Ernest as he deluded the two of them. "You're going to close your eye and go to sleep…"

Ernest's response was to bite even deeper at Joachim's hand. Ignoring the throbbing starting to overwhelm his senses, he held on tighter.

It wasn't long before the resistance begun to die down in the mortally wounded Obersturmführer. Ernest has used up what precious oxygen he had left fighting the inevitable as he drowned in his own internal bleeding. Joachim leaned closer still as the shaking slowed down, his head touching Uhlmann's forehead as he shushed him softly like a parent did for a child. Ernest looked right back at him, his eyes filled with a fading confusion. It wasn't long before Joachim felt the last moment of Uhlmann's existence leaving his body.

Holding his hands in place for another moment, Joachim pulled them back and pulled himself off the body, sitting there silently as he inspected the man he killed. His bloodied gloved hand reached up and carefully, he slicked back Ernest's hair from out of his eyes.

Quietly he stood up and left the body to go further into the café, where a water pipe had been broken. Standing in front of the spurting water, Joachim washed the blood from his hands. He ignored his shaking as what he did to someone he considered a brother. It was for his own good, so why did it leave him wiping his eyes?

"Herr Oberst?"

Joachim did not turn as he patted for his cigarette case. Finding it, he opened it to find it empty. He turned back to find Helmut Mann standing there sheepishly, a pack of American cigarettes in hand. Staring at Helmut, he took them. To say that Joachim was severely disappointed in him today was an understatement. He expected better from his old school friend. To freeze and question his order like that… he had no fucking clue what he risked.

"We have forty-three dead, eighteen wounded, about ten of them seriously. The mayor and council of Weilheim wanted to express their gratitude for saving the town… what's left of it, anyways," the Hauptmann informed his Commandant, his words carefully guarded. "They said that we should leave the wounded here and they'll send word to the nearest Heer authorities."

Joachim nodded as he inhaled his cigarette. His eyes turned back down to Ernest Uhlmann, his dead eyes half open as he started at the room.

"Recognize him?" Joachim inquired, gesturing to the body.

Helmut frowned and turned back to look at the corpse. He moved closer and inspected Ernest for several moments, as Joachim shakily smoked his American captured _'Lucky Strikes'_. Joachim ignored the expression of mild disgust from Mann.

"You brought him around to our parties a few times when you were in town," the Hauptmann replied finally, standing back up properly. "He had a sister, she was very bubbly. I tried to sleep with her, I think."

Joachim bristled at the casually lewd remark about Ursula Uhlmann.

"Ernest Uhlmann, SS-Obersturmführer, he graduated with me in 1938," he spoke softly as he looked down on the dead SS man. "He wasn't just a friend of mine, Helmut. I spent two years of hell with him in Bad Tolz. I did whatever I could to make him the best soldier he could possibly be, even though I knew at the time that he wanted to be a glorified, uniformed pencil pusher. I did it because the SS wasn't a military unit in the traditional Wehrmacht sense before the war."

Taking a seat on a pile of rubble, Joachim smoked his cigarette as he ignored Mann's eyes wandered to inspect Joachim's machine arm.

"Technically speaking there was no difference between the general service SS men like him, and SS-VT men like me until September 1939," Joachim pressed on, ashing his cigarette. "There was no division in branches, nor between officer and men, we ate in the same mess hall, we slept in the same barracks, showered, trained on our pistols and rifles, towed artillery by hand, chased women, drank… It was a family, Mann; a huge family."

He shook his head slowly.

"Joining the Wehrmacht… it's like abandoning your family. Especially to us who joined early," he continued, more to himself than before. "No matter how much I _hate_ them, no matter how much I want their system punished, they are my _family_. They are _me_. I'm not a Heer officer… I'm just in disguise…"

Joachim must have been distant or something, because Mann looked at him as though he was having some sort of mental breakdown. Who knows, perhaps he was. He wasn't sure why he was explaining this to Helmut.

"Joachim…" the Hauptmann breathed, using the Oberst's first name in an uncommon reminder of how close they once were. "Joachim, are you alright?"

Joachim looked up from the body and glared at Helmut.

"No Helmut, I am not alright," he retorted sardonically, gesturing to the body beneath them. "Germany goes to shit and this sub-par soldier decides to fight. He comes here and all the dumb bastard does is get his organs rearranged and liquefied by a hand grenade. I put him down… like he was fucking stray, or a sick animal… He was my friend, and I put him down."

Joachim trailed off, his hand wiping his face as he forced himself not to cry out in public. Sniffling, Joachim exhaled unsteadily.

"This isn't the front, Hauptmann," Joachim found himself having to remind his old friend. "This wasn't some poor bastard serving in a foreign army that's in your iron sights before he got you in theirs. He was a friend. This is what civil war is, you fight against people you are friends with, but they chose the other side. You tear apart your own country, not someone else's. So the next time I give you a fucking order, you follow it to the letter."

Mann nodded, he may have appeared to agree, but not in its entirety as he tensed up into a state of attention.

"Herr Oberst, I recognize that civil war is dirty, but we're putting civilians in deliberate harm's way," Mann stated firmly, as if being inspected. "Thirteen died when we fired through them to get the drop on the platoon!"

Joachim ignored the growing ticking sensation just behind his eye.

" _You don't think I know that_?" Joachim nearly roared at the Hauptmann. "I don't know where the hell you've been the past three and a half years, but that's the sort of thing that comes with combat. If we let that platoon escape, if we allowed even one of those men a chance to run, how many more bodies would this town have to bury, or in other targeted towns and villages? Thirteen is a good sacrifice; thirteen is number I am comfortable with. Thirteen is a number you should be comfortable as well!"

Joachim went silent and held his heavy gaze on the Hauptmann, who furiously tore his Stahlhelm off his head and threw it at his Oberst's feet. Hoch tilted his head. It wasn't often that he saw Mann so furious.

"There has to be some sort of attempt to be civil, or we'll become as bad as them, or as bad as you!" Helmut shouted his accusations at Joachim. "The ends cannot always justify the means, Hoch. We cannot become as vengeful as you are! We'll lose ourselves in this eye-for-an-eye warfare against the SS just as you already have!"

Mann went as silent as the grave and waited for a rage attack so typical of Joachim these days. It never came. Instead much to his surprise, Joachim broke down into a tremendous laughter directed at the Hauptmann.

"Your delusion is astounding, Mann. If there is one thing Kaltenbrunner taught me in the few conversations we had, and what Heydrich did to everyone I hold most dear, it's that when they fear you, you become stronger... and then you win," Joachim concluded as he took a step away from Mann. "It doesn't matter if I shoot Heydrich dead. He already won against me. All I can do now is cushioning my defeat with as many bodies of Heydrich's colleagues as I can."

Joachim fell silent as he focused on Mann properly as he took several steps back, ending up outside of the café. He looked utterly lost and disgusted. Leaning over, Joachim collected Mann's Stahlhelm and threw it over to the Hauptmann, who caught it and placed it over his head.

"I don't think I know you anymore," was all the Hauptmann could say before retreating out of the building's rubble and headed back out to find his men.

Alone once again with his deceased friend, Joachim turned away and found what was left of a grimy table cloth and pulled it out of the shattered ruins. Wandering back to Ernest, Joachim leaned over the corpse, pulling the identification papers and wallet from Ernest's pocket and the tags around his neck.

Securing them in his pocket, Joachim wrapped the body in the sheet pulled on his jacket once again. Staring at the body for another moment, Joachim stood up and turned away. He had to organize his men, they were behind schedule.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Requesting your permission to come in and take a seat. I don't think I can stand for much longer. Your boys sure know how to hurt."

Turning away from his hardback copy of _'Seven Pillars of Wisdom'_ that had come to him on recommendation by Jack Churchill during his visits with the prisoner of war. Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny looked up to find Adrian von Fölkersam standing in the doorway, his face smashed up terribly. One eye was bruised, his nose bleeding. He was clearly pistol whipped from the mark swelling on his face. Otto could not help but wince at the sight. Not because of the blood, but in admiration in his young friend.

The mission leader leaned back into his seat and offered the interrogator a large smile. He had to admit, he was extremely impressed with the length he went to impress upon his claim to the alien that he too was an innocent party in the interrogation process. The two of them were seemingly forming a brotherhood of mutual suffering. It was an interesting tactic that Adrian heard that the Luftwaffe used on American and English air force prisoners. Pretend to be the prisoner's greatest advocate, defending him from the frightening prospect of having the Gestapo show up and commence their _Verschärfte Vernehmung_ – Sharpened Questioning – which was a kind euphemism for waterboarding and other forms of torture.

"Would you like a towel?" Skorzeny inquired, unable to keep his amusement out of his voice.

Adrian shot Skorzeny a grin as he slumped down into the seat in front of his desk. His hand touched against his eye, making the subordinate wince.

"No, thank you," Adrian declined politely. "I'm going to let the blood dry, give the impression I was locked up here as he was."

Skorzeny nodded, his hand out Adrian returned the smile painfully and reached into his pocket, pulling his wallet out and opening it. He took out the picture of Emmi and Waltraut handed it to the Commando before taking a seat and a cigarette from Skorzeny.

Skorzeny held his eyes on his wife and daughter, he would have to see them soon… in case he never saw them again.

"I think he will crack," Adrian spoke lowly, not wanting to interrupt his superior, but at the same time, needing to tell him what he knew about the quarian Flight Lieutenant. "I got a good reading on who he is, and he has a good reading on who he thinks I am. He seems to have been sold on the idea that his resistance will only make me more and more desperate. If it takes too long, I can always water board him into submission or remove one of his fingers."

Placing the picture back into Adrian's hands for future use, Skorzeny laced his fingers together. Adrian looked at the pictures next before tucking it away in his jacket pocket.

"Perhaps I can take Dalad on a walk one day and you pass by with Waltraut, holding her hand as you stare at us," Adrian spoke with frank humour in his tone. "I can probably elicit a response from him better if I can provide him physical evidence that my 'family' is in trouble and that his stubbornness is risking them."

Otto could not help himself, he laughed at the suggestion. It was not as absurd as it seemed. A good reminder could motivate the quarian father of how dangerous holding out could be. Besides, it was simply him spending time with his daughter. What harm could come?

"I'll see if I can convince Emmi that I should include her and our three year old in the operation," he assured Adrian, still chuckling at the thought. "That aside, Himmler is waiting for us to act soon. We have just less than three weeks to prepare. I'm training my team in their suits and weapons. I need him to teach me how to pilot the shuttle craft back, or at least work whatever technology they have for an automatic I trust you are prepared to up his punishments if he resists much longer."

Adrian von Fölkersam nodded. Skorzeny was satisfied that he was well aware that niceties could not last much longer.

"Does Kaltenbrunner know what we're doing?" Adrian asked his boss.

Skorzeny shook his head. Ernst Kaltenbrunner had taken off, he had to lay low for the time being, setting his family up in Spain. He did not know if the quarians were keeping a tight watch on him, so he was keeping his head down until they didn't expect him. He was busy quietly preparing escape routes. If the Party failed containing the Wehrmacht, the survivors fled out of the country to regroup and plot their next moves.

"Kaltenbrunner is setting shop in Spain as we speak, he'll be back soon enough," he informed Adrian. "Müller and Heydrich are fighting the war in the meantime. Heydrich wants the Führer's position and he's making no attempt at hiding it. Himmler feels it's in the best interest to keep this between the two of us. He does not trust Heydrich anymore, and neither do I."

"Will I be going with you?" Adrian inquired, a little too eagerly. "To the vessel they hold the Führer on. I mean. I would like to help in any way."

Placing as charming a smile on his lips as he could, Otto shook his head. Reaching into his table, he grabbed his bottle of Schnapps and two glasses.

"As much as I'd like another gun watching my back, I have another mission for you to undertake," he told the younger former Brandenburger Abwehr commando as he poured two generous glasses. "I'll need you back at Wilhelm Canaris' side soon. When the time is right, you'll cut that bastard's throat. He's our greatest threat while the quarians refuse to get directly involved."

Otto slid one glass over, buttoned his jacket up and stood from his seat, his drink held out in a toast as he looked on his valuable partner.

"Adrian, thank you for your dedication; I mean that. Your work here will not be unnoticed when the Führer is in my hands," Otto saluted the somewhat befuddled Adrian. "Dalad is the safe standing in the way of this operations success. You, my friend, are the ever patient, ever resourceful safe cracker. Because of you, everything is falling in place."

Adrian smiled slightly and together the two men clinked glasses and drank in his honour.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, extreme angst extermination**


	8. Moments of Peace

**Chapter Eight: Moments of Peace**

 **…**

Joachim Hoch would most certainly have kiss Admiral Utala'Falan if she was standing there with him right about now. She came through for him in a big way, which was more than he could say for most quarians he had to deal with in the past.

After rendezvousing with Claus von Stauffenberg and the rest of his unit outside of Stuttgart, the now reunited 438th Hoch Regiment headed southwest, into the deep quiet Black Forest, far away from a lot of prying eyes. Creepy of course, the Black Forest was menacing to traverse, but when they made it to the clearing where the Quarians told them to be, it was so much better.

Sure enough, waiting for them in the clearing was an entire fleet of vehicles, Hanomags, light scout cars, and Panzerkampfwagens, none of them lighter than the Panzer IV Auf H's. There were crates of ammunition, automatic MP-43 rifles, MG-42's, flak guns, mortars and all the supplies he would ever need for at least four months of fighting, excluding the gasoline, which was enough for a month.

All in all, as shitty as the day had been, it got better at the end of it. He did not care how the quarians got this here, or how they did it inside a three hour window, but it was here and that was all that mattered to him at the moment. At long last he would finally be back in the battles for the Ruhr. No more favours for Generalfeldmarschall's, no more marshalling his regiment, no more stealing from wops and there was no more rear guard action against the SS. It was back to the front; where things made sense.

Wandering up and down the perimeter was Joachim. He was watching silently as he men prepared to fight fellow Germans again. Joachim was certain that this time things would make sense. The senseless burning of Weilheim drove the point across that history would not side with the National Socialist Party. Even the Waffen-SS men grumbled at it. Disgusted by the stories they had heard from the civilians that they watched out for until Joachim arrived to continue their drive to the rendezvous.

 _"I'm serious you guys, I think this Batman fellow is a fag! What kind of man dresses in tights and keeps a little boy as he 'ward'? What the hell is he grooming him for? I don't think it's to be his partner in crime fighting, that's for damn sure. I don't get Americans. They have all this apparent freedom and opportunity and they waste it on fucking comics about pedophile homosexuals!"_

Joachim groaned internally and turned, sure enough it was Hertzer and his crew.

The crew was sitting there on the grass, smoking, playing cards while one of them complained loudly about American deviancy condensed into a comic book. Hertzer, on the other hand, was sitting on his captured Wespe was by himself. He looked utterly miserable at what apparently was his new vehicle for the time being. Joachim cleared his throat, earning his focus and a glare at the Oberst.

"How could you do this to me, Hoch?" Hertzer shouted to his Commandant, ignoring the stares of his crew. "What the hell did we ever do to you to deserve being downgraded, other than saving your ass at Aguni Lahwa!"

Hertzer's crew stared from Joachim, to Hertzer, who froze and realized that shouting at Joachim Hoch was just about the worse thing anyone not his immediate junior could do. He swallowed nervously as his crew stood up and got out of the way for Joachim as he stepped forward to join Hertzer.

"Hertzer, come with me," he ordered the tanker.

Looking to his crew, Joachim did not give him more than a few seconds before he grabbed Hertzer by the neck and forced the man to look at his feet. Glaring at the crew to keep away, Joachim turned away and led him down through the men and supplies, keeping a heavy silence on them for several long minutes.

He pasted by Mann's company rearming and noticed Mann standing there, watching Joachim. The conversation they had fresh in both of their minds. Joachim turned away. Looking behind him, he noticed the crew members were trailing far behind him and their commander. The loyalty was admirable, really.

"I know that you're miserable that you weren't assigned a Tiger or a Panther… or even a Panzer IV," Joachim spoke to Hertzer as gestured to two Panther's parked parallel to separate. "I did not forget you. I owe you one for your rescue during that… incident that lost you Sigrid I in. You didn't just save my life; you saved Hanala's as well. For that I can never, ever thank you enough for that… so I think providing you with Sigrid III would be the _least_ I could do."

Joachim let go of Dieter Hertzer, who looked back to Joachim curiously before watching as the Panther's moved out of the way, revealing the token of gratitude Joachim offered to his Tiger Ace: A brand new heavy Panzer.

It was not just any Panzer. The Panzer stood out from the others. It was the only one in the Regiment. A little longer than a Panther and bulkier than the Tiger, the Panzerkampfwagen stood as an imposing, fear inspiring sight. Joachim knew it was overkill, but when he saw that the quarians had actually gone out of their way to build about fifteen of them already, Joachim decided then and there that this weapon would be the jewel of his Regiment –granted, a slow, gas guzzling jewel, but totally worth it if only for the fear factor. Whether it performed was another thing altogether.

Whatever potential problems it might have had, it simply did not matter to the new commander of the Panzerkampfwagen. He looked close to blowing a blood vessel in his brain. Hertzer was close to drooling as he unsteadily approached the vehicle. His hand shakily as he touched the long barrelled 8.8 cm KwK 43 L/71 gun.

He turned back to Joachim as though this had been a dream.

"Our benefactors were provided blueprints drawn up by Herschel. I guess this is what happens when you combine the Tiger with the Panther," Joachim explained the vehicle the best he could. "It's designated as a Panzerkampfwagen Tiger Ausf.B… or simply, the Königstiger."

Hertzer did not reply to his CO. He was too stunned for words as he took in the sight of the new Tiger variant. Joachim stepped up to join the Panzer Commander and slapped his hand on his shoulder.

"I reckon the most the enemy will be able to do against it is scratch the paint or pray you run out of gasoline," he said, admiring the future dealer of death to the unlucky SS men and vehicles it would face. "Have fun, and for the love of God don't fuck this up for m-"

Joachim was cut off as Dieter Hertzer wrapped his arms around Hoch and cried out in joy, somehow managing to lift the bigger Oberst off his feet. Deciding this was far too queer to be around, Joachim shoed him off and stepped back, watching as the crew bolted past him to take a look at their new behemoth. Watching them scream their panzer lingo to each other in amusement.

Joachim felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he found that it was Joachim Peiper, and he was not in a good mood like the others.

"Hoch, I think you better come see this. You're not going to believe it," he spoke tersely.

Frowning, Joachim turned away from the joy and followed Peiper to the non-combat equipment area –the cargo trucks filled with radio gear, the extra parts, the rations, medical supplies and the engineering equipment. They were the things needed to supply the unit. They stopped in front of a heavily modified command variant Sd Kfz. 9. Boxy with long radio antennas, it was the perfect set up for Joachim to command from when he couldn't get into the field.

Peiper opened the door and ushered Joachim in, which he did somewhat suspiciously.

Standing already inside the mobile command station was Claus von Stauffenberg. His arms crossed and his back turned to Hoch and Peiper. He turned back to Joachim, his expression a faint amused expression as he stepped out of the way to allow Joachim to inspect the other occupant sitting in the mobile command centre.

"I found this… thing waiting for you," Stauffenberg spoke, trying not to smirk too much. "I think she's here for you."

Sitting there was indeed a woman, dressed along slowing dress, and cardigan, all of it in nearly shining white, an oversized veiled sunhat with heavy looking black sunglasses covering her facial features. Slowly, her expression formed a reserved smile as she stood up and swayed over to Joachim, her hips rolling a little more than they had to. Joachim's eyes flickered across her pale face, touched with make-up face. His eyes flickering to the scar left by battle not so long ago.

"Hello Joachim," Hanala'Jarva purred softly. "Did you miss me?"

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Did he miss her?

In all honesty, no, he hadn't.

It was not as malicious as it might have sounded. To him, Hanala off this planet, and for all intent and purposes, out of his life, it meant that she would be safe and out of harm's way. He would have sooner have her as far away from this conflict than risking her for a single moment in the name of supporting a relationship that would undoubtedly lead to her demise. It was madness in his opinion.

It was a madness that Hanala did not seem to mind enduring. That was what bothered him the most. She did not seem capable of understanding where he was coming from. That or worse, she was deluding herself. She could not juggle the role of a new mother figure and come and fight for the same cause as he did. When he offered her the choice all those months, she choose her niece and rightfully so. As some of his rage subsided, he knew it was better that she chose that. So to have her here and now, no matter what her reason was premature.

As he stood there silently, her question did not receive a response from him, who continued to stare at Hanala, leaving an awkward air between the estranged couple. More awkwardly so that it was being witnessed by two men who probably should have left the Command Half-Track about two minutes ago.

Nervously, Hanala closed the last gap between them, smiling as confidently as she could; she reached up to graze his stubble covered cheek. Next to the two of them, a disgusted groan came out of the silence that was Von Stauffenberg and Peiper.

"Just when a quarian looks halfway decent, she goes ahead and shows off those god awful hands," Peiper ruthlessly taunted the quarian

Hanala broke her near trance state as she stared at the source of the comment. It was from Joachim Peiper, completely nonplus as she narrowed his eyes at the man. Joachim also turned to stare at his subordinate; it was enough for him to relent. Behind the SS-Obersturmbannführer, Claus von Stauffenberg, always the professional, remained perfectly still, as though he hadn't heard what was going on.

"If that comment was directed to Joachim, I'll suggest you to speak up, _Midget_ ," Hanala shot back at the human, whose grin vanished immediately. "I know from experience… you're what, two inches taller than I am? _Three_?"

Joachim made a point of not laughing at what Hanala had said at the expense of the 5'8 Peiper, who had joined the SS at a time when they were only accepting men taller than 5'10. Seething with great hatred for the quarian woman who dared to speak out against him, Peiper turned to Joachim as though he could control the Admiral.

"Stauffenberg, Peiper, tell the men we'll make camp here tonight," he ordered the two of them. "We'll be heading to Cologne in the afternoon."

Looking from Hanala to him, Claus von Stauffenberg nodded. Peiper on the other hand huffed. The two of them turned and left.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Joachim stepped back from Hanala and slumped down into the closest seat that he could find. He pulled off his gloves and cap. He paid no attention to Hanala as she sat down next to him, her head tilted slightly as she watched him like he was going to explode or something. Realizing that that was not going to be the case, Hanala's small hand reached out and rested on top of Joachim's machine hand.

Reaching up with her other hand, Hanala moved off her veiled sunhat and then the glasses, revealing her bright, warm looking eyes. They were a far cry from the fear and disgust they held for him in the aftermath of losing her Brother and Sister-in-Law. Joachim had to wonder if it was an act, a hoax meant to lure him out of his stance that contact between the two of them would lead to disaster.

Some might have considered this line of thought as paranoia, but Joachim could not ignore the sheer amount of hell they were thrown in together when each other were in the middle of this godforsaken war. If he wanted to succeed, he needed what little luck he retained over the years of conflict he fought in to remain intact.

"What are you doing here?" he immediately demanded.

Hanala's smile did not waver, despite the harshness in his tone. For a woman with a hair trigger temper, and no belief in inn adhering to a demure state when she was offended. She leaned in closer, her fingers squeezing his hand as though it was the real thing.

"I had Mother take in Saleb for the night," she informed him, her slight smile widening. "I'll call for a shuttle back in the early morning… I thought that if your unit was going to meet our resupply ships here, I might as well join them-"

She did have a chance to continue. Joachim's natural hand reached over and grabbed her by the forearm. He stood back standing tall above the shorter woman still sitting. If there was any fear in her expression, she wasn't showing it. She did, however, remain perfectly still. Her eyes continued to stare at him as though pondering what his next move would be.

" _No._ you'll call for a shuttle back to the fleet _right now_ , Hanala," Joachim ordered, his voice growing heavy with stern chastising. "I cannot have you here. Not now. Not when the regions we think are secured are not secured at all. The SS are launching raiding parties and hitting small towns we don't consider strategically important enough to divert men and resources to garrison. They kill now for the sake of killing. So if you came here for, what I imagine is for some sort of self-indulgent reason simply because I'm here and I would be fine with it, then you are sorely mistaken. "

Joachim fell silent as he looked down on the woman. He needed her to understand that Earth wasn't safe for her that, especially when it was within a hundred kilometres of him. Rubbing his mouth, he stepped back, unable to meet Hanala in the eye all of a sudden.

"You're the last person who means something to me, Hanala. You're the last person that I can _protect_ from this conflict," he admitted, working his nerve up to look at her. "Your safety is only assured because you are up in your fleet, raising your niece. So please, for my sake... just go _home_."

Staring at him for a moment, Hanala slowly shook her head.

"Forget this damn war for a while, you have been avoiding me on purpose for the better part of three months," Hanala complained as she continued to stare at him. "You will not ignore me any longer, not when I have things to say!"

Joachim blew off her statement, turning his back on her as he moved towards the door. Whether she wanted to or not, she would be going home, even if he had to carry her to her landing zone the entire way.

"This can wait," Joachim said as he reached into his pocket to retrieve his omni-tool device. "What part of _'grievously in danger'_ do you not understand? I cannot overstate how much-"

 _"Oh would you please just shut up!?"_ Hanala suddenly shrieked. _"Shut up before you make me stand up and knock you flat on your ass!"_

Joachim froze his eyes wide as he absorbed the blatant threats of violence at the hands of a woman over a foot shorter than he was. She was furious, beyond furious, all her good graces had vanished as the angry, violence prone Hanala bubbled back up to the surface. Joachim knew better than to provoke this awakened anger. Hanala angry was one of the few things that made him pause.

The two of them remained in a state of spooky silence as Hanala turned away to collect herself. She stood up and wandered off to the other end of the command centre. Her head was lowered as she muttered to herself in a violent hissing that was Khellish. Her hand reached up and seemed to have gripped the bridge of her nose for a moment, before she turned back. Her expression was neutral as she stepped closer back to him.

"I know that you have some sort of misguided sense of nobility that wants to keep me out of danger. I also realize that nothing I say will ever make that go away. However, I am not going to be scared by you into hiding just because there is a chance… a chance that eight hours spent in your company will devolve into a state of total war where we got hurt or worse," Hanala spoke again, her voice calmed somewhat as her arms crossed together. "Now, granted, we have a lot of scars left because said things had happened before… but to live in fear… Joachim, that's not living. And you deserve better than that… so I'm sorry, but I think that this self-flagellation of yours has gone on quite long enough!"

Hanala's went silent as her words coursed through Joachim's mind. He did not know what to say to her. What could he possibly say to her? They were two extraordinary stubborn people locked in a death spiral. She didn't understand what he was doing, she couldn't.

She came closer still, her hand extending to take his. He accepted it, his hand tightened its hold of her. The simple gesture was enough to make Hanala smile slightly as she found Joachim's affection for the first time in months. Biting his lip, Joachim took a small step towards her, unblinking as he found himself in a familiar hypnotising caused by the illuminated eyes staring into his.

Reluctantly, Joachim turned off the communication device in his hands and pocketed it once more.

"Hanala," he hesitated. "Things have changed…"

One finger touched against his mouth. Hanala, still staring at him nodded grimly.

"Yes Joachim, things have changed," Hanala agreed, her eyes searching his. "I _get_ that what you've been doing is going to put your life in danger in the future, and mine as well if I stay by you. But as well intentioned as you may be, you cannot control my choice of who I want to stand with. Joachim, I'm not looking for another Father... or a Brother to protect me. I'm looking for someone to spend the rest of my life with… to help me raise Saleb; and I want it to be _you_."

Blinking, Joachim's mind was swimming with what Hanala was proposing. Was she seriously suggesting she'd be open to…?

Joachim's thought process fell apart as he watched Hanala's smile faltered back into a look of disappointment, her hand once squeezing his fell to her side as she stepped back. It was something that appeared to be a reluctant decision, but never would she dare to admit it.

"As much as I want it to be you, I will not beg,either," she pressed on, her tone steeling as she stood there unmoving. "So if you really that serious about wanting to protect me by staying far away from, then you had better do the only thing that can stop me standing at your side: end the relationship, end our friendship. That's the only way I will keep away from you."

Ignoring the sudden feeling that his heart collapsed into the pit of his stomach, Joachim narrowed his eye at the woman. Hanala remained unnaturally still. It was as if she too was in a state of shock that she spoke such words to him. Whatever the case, it was out in the open now.

He had a choice to make, and it wasn't as easy as it seemed. He loved her, he really did. But that wasn't enough to put her at risk for the rest of her life. Love wasn't an adequate reason to risk her. Perhaps this was a blessing that she approached him first with this inevitability.

"I take it you're issuing an ultimatum to me?" Joachim spoke at long last.

Hanala nodded gravely.

"My Father told me to wait and have you approach me," she admitted to him, taking another step back. "He forgot how impatient I am, and that you only respond to direct confrontation when it comes to these matters. So yes, this is an ultimatum."

The two fell silent once again. Hanala's arms crossed together as Joachim stood there in nearly a state of attention. He could see her quivering from her. She too appeared sick, like this was the last thing she ever wanted to do, but knew that she had no other option because he presented her none. She still cared… but he could not be bothered with it. In his mind, revenge took precedence over something real, over a future he used to believe in.

Still he could find no words. Not when his cold logic told him to end it, while everything else demanded to tell her otherwise. He tried not to pay attention to the water building her eyes as she clenched her mouth shut. Tears were rare for her. He had seemed them maybe two or three times, and only under extreme duress.

"Say it, Joachim!" Hanala suddenly snapped, her voice barely controlled as her eyes grew wide. "Say it and you will never have to worry about my safety ever again. Saleb and I will stay far away from you while you go off on your vendetta and get yourself killed. That's what you want, isn't it? Kill as many of these bastards as you can until they… until they kill _you_ in return?"

Joachim flinched, the anger and the awful in her words stinging him.

Yes, there were days he just wanted to die, to see the Langer's again. It was in these sober moments he craved the end of himself. The drugs he took suppressed these thoughts, or at the very least made them second to whoever would die at his hands. Sober at the moment and looking into the expression of infinite depression Hanala wore in her face, he knew that what he was doing wasn't sustainable.

Still he could not speak, leaving Hanala growing more and more upset. His silence was an answer as much as his words would have been. She stepped back further, her back side hitting the table. She turned away from him and stared at the maps set up for him by Stauffenberg.

Biting the bullet, Joachim stepped forward. Hanala not paying attention to the movement, or purposely wasn't. He reached out and gripped her by small, but tough bicep, turning her around to face him. She did not return the look; instead she held her eyes low, focused apparently on his Knight's Cross. Breathing shallowly, he touched her chin and with as much gentleness as he could summon, brought up her face so she had no choice but to look at him. Still he could not speak.

His answer came in the form of a kiss. His lips touching hers for the first time in months, the action stunning the woman for a good long moment before she kissed him back, her arms wrapping around her neck as she stood on the tips of her toes. Without warning, Joachim lifted her up and sat her down on the table, his head bowed as he pressed his head into her chest, savouring the feeling of her long fingers pushing through his hair.

"I'm so sorry, Hanala. I'm wrong… in so many ays, and I do not know if I will be who I was," he admitted into her neck, his lips grazing her pale flesh. "I… I _want_ to be with you… I just… I just don't know how to come _back_ from this… I don't think I'll ever come back from this."

Hanala lifted his head up. Her mouth curved back into an empathetic smile as looked at his suddenly tearing state. Her hands trailed down his face, tingling his neck as they slid to unbutton his shirt. Pushing it off his chest, she held her eyes on his flesh for a good long moment before looking up to him again.

"We'll worry about that later… when everything clears and settles down," Hanala promised him, her fingers grazing the extremely light coating of hair on his chest. "For now I just want you the way we used to be, if only for tonight."

Her lips capturing Joachim for a moment before she hopped off the side of the side of the table. Pushing her hand through her bangs, she smiled at him as she gestured to what appeared to be a cot set up for the two of. Joachim squinted, and then turned back to the quarian looking coyly at him.

"I think I'm going to need a little more than a cot if I want to deal with you properly," he dryly admitted.

Hanala's smile widened as she worked off her outfit from her body. If there was one thing she loved, it was a challenge.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Exhausted, she collapsed underneath their blanket and into his chest. Her body shifting she pulled him out of her. Keelah, she needed a shower. Her pelvis was starting to burn terribly.

"So..." she breathed, her words muffled, yet teasing. "Still going to complain about me being here?"

He totally did.

"I still don't think that you should not have come," Joachim mumbled to her. "Sex isn't going to convince me to change my opinion… even if I enjoyed this…"

Laying properly on top of the man admitting such a thing to her, Hanala'Jarva groaned and then sighed dramatically. Of course that would have been his reaction. As frustrating as it was, she still should have expected that response.

Snaking up his body and popping her head from out of the covers, Hanala rested her chin on his chest and looked at Joachim, who was staring up at the roof of the command vehicle. Although he did not look at her, his natural arm reached under the covered, his fingertips grazing along her naked spine, making her quiver at the wonderful sensation.

Sighing, she nestled into underneath his chin, her mouth opening as she lightly nipped the flesh of his neck, the touch of her making his hand dig deeper into her exposed skin. She wanted nothing better now than to begin round two right now with him, but knew better. Joachim needed a moment or two of quiet. As wonderful as sex was, Joachim needed to rest more than to make Hanala scream as he worked himself inside of her.

"So, where are you being deployed to next?" she breathed as she released her grip of him.

"The Ruhr Valley," Joachim spoke again, no emotion in his voice.

He trailed off. Hanala did not need an explanation. She had heard about what he exploits in the small city of Darmstadt had done. She didn't like what she was hearing. She hated the thought of Joachim being caught in open, exposed warfare. She could live with urban fighting; At least there he could find real cover. Still, as worried as she might have been, she chose not to word her problem with it. She instead pressed her lips against his collarbone. Kissing his flesh, she tried to block out the sudden fear of losing him again. Not just that but the thought that she should hand Saleb over to her Mother and joining him back on the field. With her there, she could make sure he didn't do stupid things…

Joachim must have noticed her trepidation, his fingers grazed through her hair as he leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. Hanala smiled half-heartedly into his collarbone, but did not lift her head up to meet his eyes.

"If you're worried, don't be," Joachim spoke, Hanala squirming as the rumbling of his voice sent vibrations through her chest. "I'll be sitting this battle out. I will be staying behind the battlefield and command from here, no heroics at all."

Hanala nodded at what Joachim said. Although she was somewhat relieved, it did not take away all her fears that left her nearly paralyzed with fear for him. Fear he seemed not to feel. Remaining silent for a moment as she watched him act nearly serene about the coming battle, Hanala decided enough was enough. She was going to shake him up.

She knew just the topic that would work too.

"So… you and Magda Goebbels…" Hanala announced, trying not to stutter her words. "I trust you didn't have too much fun with her…"

Hanala attempted her best not to explode out into laughter as she felt Joachim freeze underneath her. His eyes widened as he looked at her like he was caught committing a heinous act. Her resolve broke down and she emitted a giggle as she pressed her face into his chest.

"You can relax, Magda told me before she was aware of the nature of our relationship," she stated before Joachim could sputter out his explanation. "I'm not upset; I just thought I would spare you all the awkwardness should you ever find yourself in the company of Magda and I."

Realizing that Hanala was not about to eviscerate him out of jealously, Joachim relaxed. Not enough to be unguarded, but at least he was breathing once again. As he digested what she said, he arched his brow at her.

"I didn't realize she would make friends with a quarian so quickly… or you with an unrepentantly committed National Socialist," Joachim remarked, looking away from Hanala.

Hanala could only shrug.

"Neither did I, and to be honest, I would not consider it a friendship just yet. It's more like two people who need each other's help more than we care to admit," she informed him softly. "For me it's how to be a parent. My Mother is great, but I don't want to be the sort of overbearing Mother to Saleb as she was to me. In return I'm trying to coax her out of her fanaticism. I want her to remember a time when she did not need Nazism to be strong."

Joachim smiled slightly at her enthusiastic inflection, his fingers touching against her cheek, until they stopped over her facial scaring. Hanala flinched but did not react any further. She knew Joachim; she knew that he found no shame in something as trivial as a scar no matter how much she still had her doubts about it.

"That is… admirable; but no doubt is that going to be difficult. I think that she's a good person, with a sprained soul. She made a lot of bad decisions, and she made them knowingly, but that shouldn't warrant everyone giving up on her," Joachim spoke finally, scowling. "Zorah was going to leave her and the children inside the Chateau while Guderian launched his attack. They would have likely all died... so I had to do something… anything…"

Hanala cringed internally as she could not find the right words to describe how much disgust she felt for Halid'Zorah at the moment. Zorah might have had a reason to do such an unspeakable thing, but that did not mean that she endorsed it. Sacrificing Magda and the children… that was wrong, that was so terribly wrong.

Carefully, Hanala slid herself up Joachim's body until she found herself sitting just below of his ribs, her knees pressed into the bedding. She leaned forward, kissing his lips before her hands reached out and gripped both of his forearms, playfully pinning his arms above his head. Joachim appeared somewhat amused; his mouth flickered into a smile. Hanala returned the look, unembarrassed by her own nudity as she exposed herself to him.

All of this was enough for the moment to sustain their private happy moment, and it lightened the mood enough so that she could speak again. Speak about something that was on her mind, but had to wait until after he was relaxed enough for her to broach the topic.

"Joachim?" She spoke up at long last as she looked down at him. "I need to talk about something, and it involves a hypothetical future where you survive and come back to me."

Joachim smile dimmed somewhat. He did not say anything, nor did he nod. He simply remained perfectly still, attentive. Hanala took it as a sign and exhaled slowly.

"You need help. I realize that this is not a topic that you want to have at the moment, and I can respect that in this moment, you are in no position to seek it, nor do you want it," Hanala spoke slowly, watching as Joachim's expression turned into one of annoyance. "I don't want to pressure you into it, but if what we have is serious, if we want it to evolve further, I cannot… I cannot, in good conscious, place an untreated you in a position where you're living with Saleb and I."

As Joachim looked ready to retort, Hanala, leaned in and kissed his mouth. She pulled back slightly.

"Please, don't talk, Joachim," Hanala softly requested she pulled herself away. "I know how strong you are, and I know how well you suppress; but the thing is, that's not healthy and I am not going to allow a chance of you exploding and potentially harming Saleb. It would be one thing if it was just us like the old days, I would fight back, but with her in the picture…"

She trailed off and swallowed the knot building her throat. She shook her head.

"I cannot possibly put her at risk," she breathed to him. "I know what I'm implying, and I beg you to forgive me for assuming you would do such a thing, but I cannot do that to her."

Having said what she needed to say to him, she sat there and waited for Joachim's inevitable explosion of denial. It would be rightfully earned as well. She loathed herself for having to say what she said, but it was a self-loathing she would stand by. This was a genuine, tangible concern and it needed to be said aloud. She could not sit here and pretend that Joachim, someone she loved, someone she wanted to have more with, was going to be fine one day. If she wasn't going to be fine with everything that happened in February, then Joachim was definitely not going to be alright.

The anger that she anticipated, did not come. Joachim remained perfectly silent as he looked at her toned stomach. His hand pulling out of her grip, he grazed down between the space of her breasts, all the way down to her naval, and then moved lower and lower, her nerves sparking up more and more. Hanala relaxed herself, exhaling sharply as he touched her for a long moment before travelling slowly up her body.

"I'm not mad at you, Hanala. I understand," he finally spoke as he stared at the movement of his hand before looking up at her at long last. "It's just… you know me, you know my past. You know I would never harm a child. Shout or get mad at, perhaps, but never hurt."

Hanala nodded, smiling reassuringly. She wanted to believe that…

"I know, but I'm sorry, I cannot risk it," Hanala spoke once more. "I know that your past could turn you off from that… or perhaps it might not. These are all things you need to address before we get serious…. Should you survive of course…"

Joachim chuckled darkly.

"Should I survive…" he repeated his voiced tinted with some amusement. "Not even married and you're already bossing me around…"

Hanala's broke down and allowed a smile as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He seemed to have understood. He did not like it, but he was not as upset as she expected from him. Before she reply with some sort of wit, Joachim's arms wrapped around her and she suddenly found herself underneath him. She tried not to shriek. She did not know if the Command vehicle was soundproof.

Like she had done to him, Joachim pinned her arms high over her head, but unlike the last time, Hanala knew that they would stay pinned until he allowed her a chance to escape. She shivered in anticipation as Joachim started shifting in place.

"One day I will, Hanala…" he finally promised her softly. "I have no idea what I could do about these things in my head, but I guess I could try to deal with them…"

He leaned in as together they kissed, Hanala's gasp muffled as she felt him enter her for third time that evening… or was in early morning… It did not matter as Joachim grinded into her full, making her emit a long, enthused groan.

 _"That's all I am asking…"_ she whispered to herself.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Stepping out of the command Hanomag first, Joachim Hoch glanced around at his men.

Most of them were asleep from their long journey from Algeria to the Black Forest, others were sitting around the several bonfires they started, and others still were assigned on guard patrol. The soldiers sitting around the nearest bonfire took notice to their Oberst looming nearby and stood up to a state of attention, which he silently gestured them to relax once more. It was four in the morning. Even Joachim Hoch knew better than to demand respect from relaxing soldiers under his command. He was tough, but he wasn't a sadist.

Turning away, he held his hand out to Hanala, who took it and, because of her short stature, had to hop out of the vehicle, bumping into Joachim with a barely breathed giggle as she pushed him out of her way, only to find that Joachim hadn't let go of her hand. They stood there, admiring each other for a good long moment. It felt like old times, when everyone was alive and the two of them had no real concerns.

The moment… of course, was ruined rather quickly.

 _"Privileges of the rank, Herr Oberst!?"_ Hoch heard Hertzer xall to him and Hanala.

The men around the campfire laughed loud at what they were seeing, although not loud enough to wake anyone. Hanala too laughed nervously, looking up to Joachim as he remained stoic in light of what his men said. Not offering them a retort, Joachim instead offered his arm to her, whom she clutched onto, and together they moved through the impromptu campsite.

As they reached the edge of the perimeter, Joachim saluted three sentries patrolling together and stepped over the line. Hanala let go of his hand and placed it insides of his. He watched her eyes look up at the clear sky, her focus fixated on the stars shining bright. She was amused when Joachim explained to her the constellations, to her they were stars she could reach, but to Joachim they were distant points of light he never dared to imagine he'd touch as well.

It seemed like an age ago to Joachim. What was once scoffed, she now seemed to have marvelled. It was strange. Then again, they were not the same people who stumbled into an odd relationship. They were older now after… after what had happened. Any attitude of youth had slipped away, leaving the never quite the same.

Hanala and Joachim remained silent still, basking in each other's company rather than making a whole lot of promises to each other that could quickly be broken in a few hours' time. If it was to be their last encounter, walking through the field and towards the heart of the Schwarzwald would make a lasting reminder of the way things were.

As the two of them reached the tree line, Hanala stopped walking, her hand clutching Joachim's as she pulled him back to her, both of her arms wrapped around his waist as she looked up to him.

"So…" she breathed to him. "This will be goodbye for now."

Joachim tilted his head at her, and then back towards the tree line. Her rendezvous with her transport shuttle was a good three kilometres from here. He couldn't just turn his back on her here and leave her on her own. He wanted to spend as much time as he possibly could with her. For the first time in a long time, he felt almost normal.

"I should take you the rest of the way," he said, his voice unable to hide the tint of fear in it.

Hanala's mouth formed a sad smile as she shook her head. Her hand extending as one finger pressed against his lips. Joachim stared at her desperately. He needed her to stay; he needed her to make sure that he was safe from himself!

He tried to say this out loud, but in a flash all his cold, cynical logic kicked back into gear. He was down to commit more acts of murder. It was best if he did not allow her to see firsthand just how far he had fallen. She saw what he did first hand…

"Joachim what did I tell you about not needing another Father or a Brother?" she reminded him sweetly, there was nothing but a pure, infinite patience in her words. "Joachim, go back to the camp, prepare for your next battle… or better yet, go and get some sleep... I'll be fine."

He held his eyes firmly onto her. Although he wanted nothing better than to scoop her up and throw her over his shoulder and walk the rest of the way whether she wanted it or not, Joachim knew better. As annoying as the tough, independent woman routine was to him, he knew better than to tell Hanala how he felt differently. So instead he inclined his head in rare deference to a woman.

Hanala's smile widened slightly, both her hands came up and rested on each side of his head, bringing it down so that she could step on her tips of her toes to kiss his forehead, then both of his cheeks.

"I said this before, but you look really good in that uniform," she complimented, her lips pulling back, but her fingers still pressed against his face. "You look like you belong in it. You were never meant for a Schutzstaffel uniform. Too much grey… it hides your eyes. Feldgrau suits you better."

Joachim offered her a half smile, as his own hands sliding down her sides until they rested on her hips.

"Promise me something?"

Joachim knew that he couldn't, but he remained silent. The least he could do was listen to her request.

"Whatever it is that you choose about us, whether you change your mind decide that it's too risky to stay together, or you want to try making this more, whatever happens, I just want you to be safe from now until the end of this conflict," Hanala requested, her eyes as she buried her face into his neck. "I know that you're hurting and you're alone, but that doesn't need to be the case soon. You just have to focus and you have to survive this. Giving up, submitting to death now… I cannot bear to imagine it…"

She trailed off, her eyes misty as she looked away to blink. Joachim allowed one finger to reach out to touch her chin, using it to raise her eyes back up to him. Her lips were clenched together, as if forcing herself not to try right in front of him.

"I will not promise that," Joachim said plainly. He paused as he watched Hanala shudder at his inability to delude her. Sighing, he added. "But if you want to better the odds that we'll see each other, you can do your utmost to end this war. People are dying when they don't have to be. I don't have the power to stop that, but you do. When you return, go to the Führer. Convince him to put an end to the bloodshed."

Like Joachim could not promise her his survival, he knew better than to get an affirmative from Hanala. She did not reply. However, she nodded. Offering him a mild smile in understanding, Hanala's hands fell of his face and slid down to his collar, where she pulled him into a kiss. As it turned heated Hanala, who had enough restraint for the two of them, broke the embrace.

"You know how to work an omni-tool, and you know where to contact me," Hanala reminded him, her finger poking him in the chest. "You better call whenever you can. Put me in the dark for like you did, and I'll break your nose."

Stepping back up onto the top of her toes, she kissed him again and let go. Smiling for him, she backed away from him, her eyes focused onto his as she moved into the forest. She waved, and then turned away quickly swallowed up into the thick forest, leaving Joachim alone once again, his heart suddenly racing as he felt suddenly numb and sick in the pit of his stomach.

Joachim remained still, listening to her footsteps until they too vanished. Sighing, he reached into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes as he turned away and went back to join his men.

These moments of peace such as these were a terrible pain to subject himself to as the horrifying reality returned to him.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: clean up, angst extermination, pulled a section out of the last chapter, put it here, and removed two Allied soldier sections.**


	9. The Ruhr River Valley Offensive

**Chapter Nine: The Ruhr River Valley Offensive**

 **...**

Thirteen days.

It took the lives of tens of thousands of civilians across Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg, but in the end, the SS terror campaign earned them exactly thirteen days of rest, preparation of their defenses at the Ruhr and a universal assurance made by the Anti-Party commandants that when they discovered who ordered the attacks on over forty small, defenceless town, they would throw a lottery and whoever won, decided what they would do to the piece of shit.

Once the infiltrations were beaten back or destroyed, Gerd von Rundstedt mustered seven divisions into the Ruhr, coming from the Netherlands to Dusseldorf. There they faced unknown numbers. All they knew for certain was that four loyalist divisions had been summoned to defend the region. They could not guess for certain the amount of SS men had been sent with them. They were far less strict in their organizational ability. It was almost as though they came in on their own free will rather than ordered.

It was to be expected as Joachim Hoch and Jochen Peiper explained to Von Rundstedt and the other Generals preparing to take the Ruhr industrial center. The Allgemeine-SS operated like a militia. Coming from a variety of locations and converging together to fight. They could not be destroyed in the rational sense. It would require killing them one by one to stop them…. Or so Joachim told the Generals. Something the old guard Prussian Generalfeldmarschall in charge of the Anti-Party campaign was more than glad to do.

The moaning of Nebelwerfer rockets were overhead of them, fired from both sides at each other. It was a sound that made Joachim nervous. Rockets always made him more nervous, starting with his first encounter with Soviet rocketry back in August 1941. Not that he would ever admit it willingly.

To help combat his fear, he focused his attentions on preparing his panzer formations, formulating a variety of situations his men might be forced into, then prepared the means to escape, evade or fight through, he also kept his eyes glued to his omni-tool. Hanala was updating him every few hours with whatever information that she could get her hands on. Apparently her Father and Zorah were keeping her out of their circle. She was strictly a domestic affairs Admiral.

True to his word, Joachim did his utmost to contact her whenever he had a free moment to himself. They talked about whatever they could to distract them from the war and the obvious issues between the two of them. The relationship was on the slow mend, and perhaps things would go to normal someday. Hanala regaled stories about Saleb, which caught him off guard by how enthusiastic she was at the new responsibility, almost as much as he surprised himself at his willingness to pay attention to it.

The roaring of the Ferdinand Elefant heavy Panzerjäger erupted over the rocket artillery exchange. Joachim focused on it and found that the Porsche built Tiger convert was in the middle of an engine double check. Joachim wasn't sure why he had ordered one, the memory of seeing the converted vehicle paraded on the streets of the quarian capital convinced him to pick one up for himself. It would not join the assault, but the gun it possessed could shoot clear across the battlefield. That made it a valuable to should he need to order a direct fire support on something he needed out of the way.

Finding the Commander and his driver with their heads looking into the engine, their ears muffled with ear protectors, Joachim leaned in and tapped the commander on the shoulder. Clearly in a state of duress, the panzer commander turned around, his eyes glaring hard at Joachim, who remained emotionless at the mistaken belief that Joachim was his subordinate. The commander went from annoyed to standing at attention the moment he realized who it was.

"Once your Panzerjäger is optimized, I want this thing dug in on that ridgeline," Joachim spoke the moment the commander removed his ear protection, his hand gesturing to southeast of them two hundred metres in front of them. "I'll send up a platoon with you to dig you some cover. Expect many calls from me. When I order something hit, you hit it, no hesitations… are we clear?"

The Panzerjäger commander nodded and pulled on his ear protection once again as he returned to his maintenance. Joachim backed away and noticed several of his panzer crews were out of their vehicles. Catching their attention, The Panzer commanders barked to their crews and rushed to their vehicles with Joachim needing to issue his orders.

A sudden round fried off. Sure enough, Joachim found it was the Tiger II under Dieter Hertzer's command. The hatch popped open and Hertzer screamed excitedly as the shell connected into the field down below, kicking grass, dirt and fire high into the air. He turned as he realized who was standing there staring at him, his excited expression never disappearing.

"Just making sure your friends gave me a working gun!" was his explanation, before laughing out loud as he retreated back into the turret, slamming shut the hatch behind him. All the while a contingent of four first generation Tigers and ten Panther's formed up on his position. This was only one of his eight formations. They two lined up like the cavalry of old, behind them Panzerjäger units ready to watch the Panzers.

Realizing he was now out of place, Joachim backed off and went to go and join the infantry a hundred metres behind the panzer formation. They were fresh faced and busy preparing their own armaments. Platoons received orders from their company commanders, the battalion commanders –Von Stauffenberg and Peiper moved up and down the lines of their men, providing additional information they received.

As Joachim turned to leave he found he had caught the attention of the men. The ones who were sitting stood straight up. Looking to Von Stauffenberg, who appeared openly amused that Joachim thought he could slink off with being noticed and forced to say something, anything to the men. He turned back to face the gathering. Remaining silent he gestured for them to relax, which they took to heart.

 _"I suppose this is where I give you the pep talk, the standard morale boosting assurance. I cannot find much in the way of warm reassuring words to give you," He spoke to them,_ his voice subdued. _"All I can tell you is this: Keep your heads low and for God sake stay spread out. Do not, under any circumstance use the Panzer you are assigned to supporting as cover. One high explosive shell connects to it and you will be in a world of hurt. Understood?"_

There was a murmuring of unsettled agreement. He ignored Helmut Mann's muttering to his men-undoubtedly badmouthing his former friend, Peiper's look of annoyance and Von Stauffenberg looking on Joachim as though he had some sort of brain tumour. Joachim turned to leave when a sudden blatant guilt washed over him. His men were going out to fight and die… The least he could do was energize them.

Not sure what he was going to say, Joachim turned around and joined his men, removing his cap as he brushed his hand through his hair. He chuckled grimly as his head shook; his strange behaviour catching his men's attention once again as they looked up to their approaching Oberst. With nothing to say that was particularly inspiring, Joachim would do what he did best: Tell them exactly what was on his mind.

 _"Some of you survived the chaos at Weilheim, many of you desert fiends came with me to smolder out the ashes the SS left in their wake,"_ Joachim spoke up once again _. "12,000 or so was the total population of that small town, the people of Weilheim estimated that the SS killed 3000 people, nearly half the population are homeless from fire and explosives, 347 Wehrmacht loyalists who summoned their courage to act had been killed or wounded and 73 of our own fell to these creatures. What you do not know is that, that was in one town, one out of nearly 50 that were hit by so-called retribution hit squads."_

Pausing, Joachim allowed the men to digest what had happened. There had been a virtual black out in the Anti-Party Heer about the extent of the attacks that occurred. There was a logical reason to not broadcast the sudden surge in state sanctioned reprisal terrorism. They could not afford to induce panic in the soldiers under their command who may have come from the towns hit. This was the first time the men knew just how far the SS went in the attack across Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg. Judging for the horrified expressions they wore, they were not handling the news well.

 _"That knowledge does not sit well with me,"_ Joachim continued on, interrupting their fact digesting. _"It should not with you either. Well today you get your own retribution, today you will make them suffer in ways they haven't dreamed of yet."_

He focused on Mann, who appeared uncomfortable by the stare. Satisfied that he was contrite and in full understanding that they had to act ruthlessly for the greater good. Joachim turned away and then focused back on the five thousand men staring back at him. Gone was any doubt in their expressions about the operation they were on the verge of engaging in. They wanted blood, and Joachim was glad to provide it once he finished twisting the proverbial knife into their collective stomachs.

" _Eight or so kilometres southeast of here, some dumb son of a bitch Allgemeine-SS commandant whose never seen combat in his life because he choose pushing papers over combat service is now shitting himself at the prospect of fighting on an open battlefield against the likes of you miserable assholes,"_ Joachim went on, his words earning a chuckle from the men. _"You, who have been fighting for so long, some since the first days of the war, some of you in the coldest hell imaginable offered by the East, others battling through heat and dust. Although you fought far distances away from each other, all of you share the trait of being always outnumbered, but never outgunned and certainly never broken."_

Joachim grinned most menacingly.

"There's another reason why the enemy is so scared," he added. "For the first time in this campaign, the SS have been ordered to fight in a conventional, open ground battle against us. There are no civilians for him to terrorize and harass no safety in the urban combat he would rather fight us in. There are no defenceless towns he can burn down now to inspire fear. The Ruhr region is as vital to him as it is to us. So he fights out here in the open. Or rather, his superiors make him fight out here. All that's in front of him are soldiers. Because we cannot reach his limp wristed masters who ordered the terror campaign and hang them like they deserve, we'll have to settle on killing them for now."

 _ **"CUT HIMMLER'S FUCKING HEAD OFF! CUT IT OFF AND SEND IT BACK TO BERLIN LIKE YOU DID TO POHL!"**_ cried out one of the men, somewhere in the back of the silent group of soldiers.

The infantry section of the regiment roared out in approval, their rifles and fists rising into the air at the grotesque and yet very justifiable ending for Himmler. Joachim offered a sly grin to his men. His apparent approval of the random soldier shouting those words made every man under his command laugh. Joachim, who was doing his utmost to forget what he did to Pohl for the sake of himself, laughed along with his boys, he did not want to admit just how disgusted by his meth haze causing his disturbing lack of morality.

 _"All in good time, Kameraden; it will not be long until he will pay just as all the others have paid,"_ he assured the soldier who shouted to him. _"He will not get to die in any other fashion then what we dictate. Himmler is, and always was a coward. He will die like rodents he spawned from."_

The Soldiers cheered once again, this time Joachim settled them down quicker.

 _"What the enemy doesn't know is that this battle is a lure, a feint meant to trick him out of the safety of the Ruhr cities,"_ he pressed on to his rapt audience. _"While we and the rest of the 7th Panzer Division force their focus here, the 1st and 2nd Fallschirmjäger along with the 86th Infantry Division are now mobilized in Dusseldorf and will engage in a two prong assault on the cities of Duisburg and Essen, while the 110th, 87th and 94th infantry Division's strike on Dortmund and Bochum from Wuppertal... and yes, that's right; it appears that the Luftwaffe is finally under the control of old Kesselring. With Kesselring swearing his allegiance to us, all we'll need now is to take the naval ports and at long last unify to Wehrmacht branches once more."_

 _ **"It's about time those assholes started doing something!"**_

Joachim held his hand up in an attempt to stop the cheering cries of agreement before they got out of control. As soon as they fell silent with their jeers about the Luftwaffe's apparent lack of interest supporting the rebellion, he continued. He did not have the time to explain to the men just how influenced the Luftwaffe was by the National Socialists. It took a lot of courage on the part of Kesselring to rein his many underlings in and suppress his colleagues who were far more influenced by the Party than he was, even after the complete obliteration of Herman Göring.

The next step indeed was the Kreigsmarine, who like the Luftwaffe had been and the Waffen-SS was doing, they were operating on their own accord now: serving the country, but completely torn in the direction of who to support. Apparently Rundstedt and Speer had sat down with Erich Raeder and Karl Dönitz at some point. Although they were more than happy to work together in the assassination of Hermann Göring , Admiral Dönitz providing _Tirpitz_ with the location of Göring, Raeder, permitting the battleship to fire, that was where their common cause ended. Raeder, while obsolete in his naval concepts, supported the Anti-Hitler movement.

Dönitz, who had radicalized the shipping warfare, was an ardent and uncompromising National Socialist. For now no move was made against Dönitz. Like the Waffen-SS, he was considered a necessary evil that they would have to approach with diplomacy rather than with bullets.

" _The march on Kiel and the conquering of the coast is the next step of the plan, for now we focus on one thing and one thing only: the total and absolute humiliation of the SS and the loyalist Heer units dedicated to protecting the old regime!"_ Joachim continued, his voice rising higher and higher. _"We must strike such an embarrassingly brutal blow on the foe that it reminds the loyalists just who it is they have sided with. They must be made aware that the oath they swore to uphold was an illusion and they sided with a bunch of delusional, psychopaths. But until that day of realization, they are still your enemy. So you will fight them as hard as you will the SS! Harder, harder until they learn! Do we have an agreement?"_

The answer was immediate, immediate and deafening.

 _ **"YES, HERR OBERST!"**_

Joachim's expression broke into a wide smile for his men.

 _"So prepare to march into the valley, Kameraden!"_ he cried out in return, sounding uncomfortably similar to the now deceased Joseph Goebbels. _"We will make Allgemeine-SS men rue the day their whore mother's opened their legs for their bastard Fathers!"_

The entire infantry section of the Regiment exploded into cheers and battle cries. Even Stauffenberg and Peiper, seemed somewhat impressed. They too joined into the celebrations of their men, now more determined than ever to break the back of the enemy once the commander of the 7th Panzer Division ordered his attack. They were ready to fight and die.

Joachim, on the other hand was not elated. Knowing he had just sent many of these brave, impressionable men to their certain death, Joachim's smile faltered. He turned away and headed to his command half-track. He needed to get a drink into him to numb what was about to happen.

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

Lying on the cold concrete floor of his cell, all that Dalad'Voar wanted to do was die.

It was wishful thinking. He could never do it. Not when he had a family to think about. Gerda and Jal were somewhere out there. He had to… he had to return to them. He had to outlast the sleep deprivation and the bouts of water torture the humans were making him endure. He did not know for how long he had been here, but it was likely months; each day growing worse for his outlook. Thoughts of death kept him grounded. They reminded him that no matter how bad things got there was always a way out. Even when it seemed like there was none.

Perhaps if he could just sleep things would be better. Every time he started to drift off, the National Socialists would blare noise over the several speakers set up overhead. It sounded completely awful to him; the several guards that fed him said it was called Beethoven and Wagner. Whoever they were he hoped they died terribly.

The cell door screeched open, making Dalad look up to find Adrian von Fölkersam had stumbled into the cell and collapsed to the ground. The Cell door slammed shut behind him, leaving both prisoners left alone. Forcing himself to stand up, Dalad squinted to inspect the human. His face was freshly smashed up. The guards were precise enough in their strikes to inflict a maximum amount of damage and agony, all the while breaking no bones. It was clear these men were professional bullies.

Coughing violently, Adrian wiped the nose bleed he had with his sleeve. Looking up wearily to the equally tortured Dalad, he offered a smile to him, his teeth stained his blood. He turned his head and retrieved his cigarettes, placing on between his lips.

"You look like shit, Flight Lieutenant" he muttered to Dalad as he lit a match.

Despite the situation they were both in, Dalad nearly broke down in laughter at the irony being offered by the SS man.

"I could say the same thing about you," Dalad managed to retort.

Exhaling cigarette smoke, Adrian casted his eyes back onto Dalad standing over him. He offered a faint grin as he pushed himself up the side of the door. He looked like he could barely use his arms and legs as it was. For the first time since the beatings begun, it appeared as though Adrian's body and were finally collapsing in on itself.

Dalad did not know what to do. He simply sat back down on the hard concrete floor. He watched as Adrian had to once again wipe the blood pooling out of his nose. He continued to smoke, as always, Adrian tried to direct the exhaling of smoke from out of his face.

"I'll tell you what, Adrian, how about if we make a trade," he suggested, forcing what humorous optimism he had left to show up into his voice. Adrian looked up curiously to him as Dalad. "I'll take the beatings for the next two days, and in return you take the sleep deprivation and waterboarding. We… we'll change up every few days."

The human and the quarian broke down into painful laughter. As quickly as the laughter came, it suddenly turned into a sob from the coerced and exhausted interrogator. Like Dalad before him, Adrian slid down the door and sat cross legged, his hand covering his face as he continued to moan.

"This is so _messed_ up, isn't it?" he sobbed his query. "I-I just want to go home… I want to see my wife and daughter and I just want to forget that everything. I'm so sorry that my people are such bastards to you, Dalad."

Dalad remained silent as he licked his dried out and cracked lips.

"Me… what about you?" he returned, trying not to turn the conversation into a grim reminder about how long he had been absent from his family's life. "They're your own people and they're torturing you. I imagine not ever did you expect to be in this situation…"

Adrian remained silent. He did not seem to be able to find a response to what Dalad was saying. Dabbing out his cigarette, he pushed himself back up and staggered over to the Flight Lieutenant. His hand outstretched towards him. Dalad stared at Adrian suspiciously.

"I… I convince Skorzeny that let us out of our prison for an hour. Told him that you needed fresh air or else you'd get sick. Even got him to let you out without chains, but we will be guarded," he muttered as he dropped his cigarette. "Are you interested?"

Looking at the hand, then the exit, then to Adrian, Dalad slowly nodded.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"When you greet him, you will address him as Your Majesty, and any other time after that, as sir."

"I'll address him however I want to address him. He's not my Emperor, King or Kaiser… whatever he wants to call himself."

Rolling her eyes, Hanala'Jarva turned away from her colleague Admiral Zorah who was issuing the protocols for speaking with high nobility, in this case, the soon-to-be Crown Prince and head of the Hohenzollern family, Louis Ferdinand. It wasn't the first time she had been in the presence of the Prince. She had gone with Joachim shortly before the chaos of the civil war begun. This time, however, it wasn't for Joachim to meet him. The Prince had specifically requested Zorah present herself to him.

It was odd to say the least. Hanala was resigned to not being invited to the affairs of the other Admirals. She had accepted that the Admirals and the conclave considered her a replacement, meant only to serve as a technical admiral, who could enforce policy, teach, but held no significant sway in the policy of the fleet. For her to be standing in the chambers where many of the deals had been concocted was rather strange.

Hanala froze herself as she found a human already inside of the holo-communication centre. He was sitting on a chair provided to him, smoking what appeared to be a pipe, on leg crossed over the other. He wore the uniform of a service she had never before encountered, at least not personally. He was a Kreigsmarine office. White haired and old, he still possessed a charm in the way he smiled for both of the quarians.

The Kreigsmarine man stood up, one hand flattening out his jacket; he took slow, casual steps towards the two of them. Hanala ignored the look he was giving off. It made her as uncomfortable as Halid'Zorah's analytical gaze fell onto her. It bothered her so much that she could not meet his gaze.

"He might not be considered royalty to you, and perhaps the monarchical system is out-dated," the old officer stated, his tone almost amused. But perhaps… just perhaps... a small display of courtesy on your part for him would go a long way for you, Fraulein Jarva."

Hanala snapped her head up; all of her annoyance had made the apparent chauvinist. It erased all of her uneasiness with dealing with the old man. Her nostrils flared as she pushed past Zorah and closed the gap between them.

"I'm an admiral, not some little girl you can call Fraulein, you son of a bit-"

"Please forgive her tone, Admiral Canaris. Hanala is such a charming young woman, so charming that she had forgotten the concept of politeness," Zorah apologized on Hanala's behalf, shooting the woman a rather sharp stare. "Admiral Jarva, this is Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, chief of the Abwehr."

The naval officer, amused by how he got a rise out of the young woman extended his hand to Hanala, who stared at it, then him for a good long moment. Finally she relented and shook his hand. She let go immediately and made a point to wipe her hand off on her trouser leg. Human, quarian, she did not like intelligence operatives thanks to her dealings with Zorah.

"Admiral Zorah, thank you for arranging this, however I must ask if I speak with you, while Admiral Jarva converses with the Prince," Wilhelm Canaris requested to his quarian counterpart. "It is of matters most dear… things related to the Eastern Front."

Zorah arched his brow and looked to Hanala briefly.

"Of course," Zorah spoke finally, he turned to Hanala, adding. "Admiral Jarva, everything is set up, kindly be respectful to the Prince?"

Hanala looked between Zorah and Canaris, slowly she nodded. Satisfied she would listen, Zorah left, the Kreigsmarine Admiral only a few steps behind. The doors slid close, leaving Hanala alone with the disabled communication centre. Biting the bullet, she stepped forward and waved her hand over the projectors activation biometric scanner and waited for the machine to hum to life.

As she was swallowed in blue scanners, the imagine of a human was standing on the holopad, wearing a fine suit and a an expression of warm greeting for her, Hanala followed Joachim's example and bowed her head slightly for Prince Louis Ferdinand of House Hohenzollern –the future head of state for the Reich.

Before she could greet him as Zorah suggested, Louis chuckled humorously and held up his hand.

 _"Please Admiral Jarva, spare both of us the forced pageantry. Why Zorah is so keen on it, I will never understand,"_ the man's image spoke plainly, clearly as annoyed by the act as she was. _"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I can only hope that this will be not a waste of your time."_

Deciding against saying something confrontational about interrupting her rare time off, Hanala remained perfectly silent, albeit she did cross her arms. He was being polite so she would return the favour for the moment.

 _"If I recall our last meeting correctly, you were certainly outspoken and exceptionally tricky in your own right in the few things you said while I spoke to Herr Hoch,"_ Louis spoke again. _"I need your help and please do not delude yourself into thinking that you are strictly an admiral to your people. I know that you've been attempting to convince the other Admirals to approach Hitler about ceasing hostilities."_

Hanala narrowed her eyes, her heart skipping three beats at what the Prince had said. She hadn't told anyone about what she wanted to do, but was blocked by Zorah.

"How would you know…? I've only approached Zorah about it," she admitted out loud.

 _"Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, of course; the Kreigsmarine gentleman who arranged Zorah to be preoccupied so that he didn't listen into our conversation,"_ was Louis's simple response, cutting her words off. _"The Admiralty Board watches the Wehrmacht closely, and uses Canaris to be their ears on the ground. Well that is all very well, but they made the mistake of teaching Admiral Canaris the technology you use. He now uses it to watch Admiral Halid'Zorah, who watches you all. From there he reports directly to me. I know quite a bit about the inner workings of the Board. I know extent of Zorah's deals, the devils he has made pacts with so-called asari criminal syndicates who now assist your efforts. I know that your Father grows impatient and, as a militarist, wants to simply strike the National Socialists from orbit. I know Vaerhit is bitter and has come to hate the plans and humanity as a whole. I know that Falan is in a rather odd little relationship with one of the Fatherland's top soldiers, despite that it started while he was still married."_

Louis Ferdinand's lips curled into a smile as he trailed off watched Hanala's mouth drop open in surprise. All this time, the spy on the Admiralty Board had decided to use a spy as his informant? Not only a spy but the country's master spy who ran their entire military intelligence? It seemed as though he was slipping, much to Hanala's own pleasure. She might have respected him, but she had no kind words for the man who was far, far too pragmatic for his own good.

 _"And I know all about you, Admiral Jarva,"_ the Prince continued, still smiling easily. _"I know how much you hate the war; I know that you desire peace so that you can provide a home for that niece of yours. I know that you want nothing more than to return to Herr Hoch find him the help that he needs. We share similar goals. I would like to have you in my corner as the Americans say."_

His piece spoken, Louis closed his mouth and allowed Hanala a chance to digest what she had listened to. The Prince, the apparent future leader… Kaiser of the German State was standing before her, asking for her to serve as a partner to him. As tempting as it was to have a friend in a high place, Hanala had to decline on personal ethical grounds. She could not in good conscious stand next to Halid'Zorah and work even more closely than she already had to.

Zorah made her and her deceptions against Joachim Hoch look like an honest misunderstanding. The bastard made deals with Kaltenbrunner. He may have been the one to first spot the concentration camp system's conversion into an extermination network, but that did not excuse him for providing clemency to the man who presided over turning the brain-chid of Heydrich and Eichmann into a well-oiled machine. Now with the recent allegations made by Joachim… that the man had been perfectly content with getting Magda and her six little ones killed in the attack on Hitler's retreat… there was no possible way she could have a working relationship with that man without it descending into violence.

"I cannot be in your corner so long as Zorah remains in your corner," was Hanala's answer.

Expecting disappointment from the Prince, Hanala was silent shocked as Louis Ferdinand laughed, amused by Hanala's official stance on the quarian he knew best. As his laughter slowly subsided, Louis's hands came together as he smiled onto her.

 _"Well it just so happens that I agree with your stance, which is why I want you to replace him as my quarian council,"_ Louis said kindly. " _I would like you to work as representative to my affairs whenever the quarians meet the general staff. I want you as my eyes, ears and conscious on all matters related to your people."_

Watching amused as Hanala stood there gaping at the Prince, he added. _"Now, would you be interested in continuing?"_

Stunned and unable to find the proper words, all Hanala could do was nod.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Checking his watch, they were officially forty five minutes away from the opening artillery barrage, an hour and ten away from the advance into the battlefield.

As much as he wanted to be back in his command Hanomag, waiting on Hanala to provide him with information (Although she hadn't updated him in the last hour) he had gotten word from his executive officer that the Generalmajor in charge of the 7th Panzer Division had gathered up his section commanders and had requested that the regiment Weidling attached to assist him meet him once he was done.

It was a request that Joachim could not ignore, even if he wanted to, but he had been in so much hot water with Helmuth Weidling over the past few months, he would try to work a little more politely with the Generalmajor in charge of the 7th Panzer Division. Joachim read up on him. This was his first three weeks in charge of the 7th Panzer Division. He had just gotten back from North Africa where he spent two months under Rommel and Guderian mounting defenses against the Anglo-American invasion in the west. He had suffered a debilitating illness and was back in the Reich. Now recovered, he was volunteering his services to Gerd von Rundstedt, who gave him control of the same division Rommel used to bring terror across France with back in 1940.

Moving through the staging grounds he found the warehouse that was converted into a command post. The Generalmajor had taken a page out of Rommel's book and did not locate his headquarters far from the front. It was admirable. He may not have been impressed with Rommel at the moment, but it was the quality of bravery that kept Joachim respectful of the man.

He came to a stop a few dozen metres from the front of the command post. Standing there was a full platoon of Feldgendarmerie They held the entrance of the command post like a fort. Two MG-42's on sandbag barriers. Most of the men were busy with their duties, all except two men; one a Major, old and rotund, the other his adjutant, a Leutnant was baby faced. He could not have been more then 19.

Hating the Feldgendarmerie with a passion, Joachim swallowed his anger and ignored the urge to ask if the Major had eaten the entirety of the 7th Panzer Division's rations; quietly he stepped forward to join the Major and the Leutnant.

"State your business and present your papers, Oberst," the Major demanded, his voice almost shrill as he stood there in front of Joachim as though he were the superior officer.

Joachim quirked his mouth, what in the hell was up with people who didn't know who he was feeling the need to berate him. Was he cursed?

Whatever it had been, Joachim obliged, reaching into his jacket and pulled out his identification papers. He winced as he realized that he hadn't had the time to update them. They were still marked as him being a part of the Party and a high ranking member of Waffen-SS. He stood still and watched as the chubby man inspected the identification booklet he received.

"Joachim Hoch, Commandant of the 438th Panzergrenadier Regiment. I am here to see Generalmajor Von Manteuffel, as he requested," Joachim replied neutrally. "In addition, I would respectfully request that you did not take that tone with me, _Major_."

The Major looked up to face the staring Oberst. There was contempt in his eyes. Clearly he wasn't open to granting respect to a former SS man.

"My apologies _Standartenführer_ , it says here that you're a member of the Party," the Major shot back, pointing to the identification booklet Joachim had provided. "What's to stop me from placing you under arrest for impersonating a soldier, SS scum?"

Joachim narrowed his eyes.

"Six thousand men, one hundred and fifty Panzers, and the personal conversion of my Waffen-SS rank to the Wehrmacht by Gerd von Rundstedt," he informed to the security detail. "Now I haven't had time to update my identification yet. I imagine that despite your clear learning disability, you could understand under present circumstances... or shall I spell it out in smaller words, you disrespectful, fat, mongoloid _bastard_?"

The two security men looked up from Joachim's papers as Joachim explained his situation to them, in his own rather obtuse way. It was clear that they did not believe them and in the Major's case, was furious with what Joachim had said. The Major snapped his fingers and the three sentries they brought stepped forward, their rifles no long slung over their shoulders. One of them unceremoniously reached into Joachim's pistol belt and removed the side arm, handing it back to the Major.

Joachim remained as motionless as the grave, his eyes never leaving the Major wielding Joachim's own pistol at him. The Leutnant turned away and got on the line to inside the building. He looked back to Joachim as well, who ignored it pointedly. He would abide their rules; they had nothing to fear from him. Not when he knew that his men were within shouting distance.

Buzzing overhead caught his attention. It was the Luftwaffe; a flight of BF-109's was heading west. Joachim knew exactly what it meant. The Americans were coming in to attack the industrial sectors of the Ruhr. Quietly Joachim wished the pilots the best of luck. They would need it against the sheer amount of planes the Americans could throw at them. Although he didn't like Americans in the slightest, he conceded that it took guts on their part and lots of planes from home in order to raid in the broad daytime, unlike the British, who had to hide their raids at night.

 _"The man is a Knight's Cross winner, earned by service to Rommel, the goddamn patron saint of the 7th Panzer Division. I seriously doubt he's here to assassinate everyone inside!"_

The doorway to the makeshift command center opened. Out came a man wearing Oberstleutnant markings on his uniform and a scowl on his face for the security team. As the Major and the Leutnant stood at attention, the Oberstleutnant took the Walther from out of the Major's hand and stepped forward, presenting it to Joachim, his face turning apologetic.

"You have my apologies for the vigilance of the security men, Oberst," he spoke to Joachim, his voice full of forced sympathy as Joachim took his sidearm back and placed it into his pistol holster. "You must understand that several Generals who have joined our side have met their end most gruesomely. Someone with as… _colourful_ a background such as you cannot go unchecked by them, especially when you hand them proof of your membership to the Party."

Joachim offered a ghost of a smile.

Shaking his head, the Oberstleutnant turned away and took the papers from the Leutnant and handed them back to Joachim. He took one of the security desks chairs and sat it down close to the Oberst.

"Everything is in order, why don't you take a seat; the Generalmajor is briefing his commanders. I'll inform him of your presence," The apparent adjutant to Hasso von Manteuffel informed him. "Can I offer you a cup of tea? Well… the closest thing to a tea we have?"

Staring at the Oberstleutnant, Joachim nodded only once as he took off his peaked cap and took a seat. With so many embargos in place against Germany and the supplies of luxury items running out in the more wealthy of occupied territories, it would likely be a tea made of whatever herbs that could be grown locally.

"No milk, no sugar, thank you."

The Oberstleutnant nodded and returned back into the building, leaving Joachim alone with the guards. Reaching into his pocket, he watched them eye his cigarette case and flask filled with American whiskey. Although it wasn't his usual choice, he still took a swig, and slipped the flask back into his pocket as he lit up a cigarette. He would have offered them one, but he decidedly believed that guards should not have vices while they were on duty. Exhaling cigarette smoke in the Major and his Leutnant's direction, he turned away.

Removing his omni-tool off his arm, he placed the device into his hat and activated it. Checking the inbox Hanala set up for communication between the two of them, he found letters or attachments from her. Where in the hell was she? As far she he knew the woman had some time off.

Sighing, Joachim closed the device and looked up. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he nodded to Hauptmann saluting him as he left the command post.

 _"I bet all those children screamed when their stools were kicked out from underneath of them…"_

Joachim tensed up as he heard the unspeakable, spoken. He turned around to find the source, his fingers touching his pistol belt.

Laying there in the back of the Opel transport truck was a man wearing ragged civilian clothing. He was on his stomach, his hands and ankles tied together like he was livestock. His head face turned towards Joachim, his eye brow bleeding as he sneered at Joachim, who stared in silent horror at what the prisoner had said. Coughing violently he rolled on to his back and shimmied himself to the side of the truck in order for him to sit up properly.

Remaining absolutely dead silent, Joachim stared at the man who had uttered the unthinkable. He was not recognizable. He had no dealings with him in the SS. For all intents and purposes they did not know one another. All he knew was that this bastard was talking about Lene… Lene and the children… Every instinct told him to stand up and beat the apparent prisoner to a pulp.

But he wouldn't, he had to control his emotions. He couldn't let some asshole convince Joachim to slip up. He went to a psychologist in Cologne for a consultation. All he could do was recommend Joachim continue to use Pertivin at lower doses. The drug was considered as an anti-depressant if taken at an acceptable rate.

Joachim reached into his pocket for his bottle of medication He swallowed down two pills and leaned back into his seat, his eyes closing.

"Wipe that stupid look off your face. I know who you are. Everyone does. You're Joachim Hoch, you're _The Great Betrayer_. You deserved every moment of misery that has been handed to you for fracturing the Reich," the prisoner pressed on, his words growing more and more taunting. "Heydrich was right to destroy everything you have. Look at you, how haven't you killed yourself yet, you pariah. Not even your own side trusts you! Do yourself a favour and swallow your pistol. It's the least you could do."

Joachim continued his apathetic posturing, focusing on his breathing as he waited for the Pertivin to medically drown out the incessant taunting coming from the bastard attempting to induce suicidal thoughts in him. He opened his eyes and noticed the Major. He did not move to silence his prisoner. He was more than alright to let the bastard rant on.

"I heard that you had to kill the man who mentored you in order to be left standing alive," the prisoner ranted, his blood stained teeth showing. "You murdered the only man in the SS who got you anywhere, and gave you everything. Not only did you kill him, you killed his family. It was all your fault that they died, wasn't it?"

Joachim stared off. Every instinct demanding that he did something, anything to shut the man up. His mind however refused his bodies demands that they punish him. This was a test to see if he could control himself in the way he used to be. He was not going to be a slave to instinct. Not when his instinct scared the last one he loved.

A low, dark chuckle emitted from the Opal truck.

"I know that look… You know that I am right. You know that every day you live are a testament to your grievous betrayal towards the people you loved," the prisoner said. "You should have let him kill you. They would have lived had you _died_."

The Leutnant stepped forward, but was held back by the Major from intervening on behalf of the clearly distressed Oberst. Joachim ignored both of them. He leaned onto his knees, his body shaking as he forced his face to focus on his lap. He would not react, he would not react…

"I see Heydrich was right. You are a _coward_ …" the man laughed at Joachim viciously. "You couldn't fall on your own sword, you had to let all those babies and women die in your place!"

Joachim closed his eyes. He was doing it. He was controlling his reactions again… this was... this was a huge leap in returning his self-control back. He absolutely hated himself for sitting there, listening to the bastard dare utter the past to him, but it was a necessary self-flagellation. He knew that there could be a return to his old self… or at least close to it…

 _"I heard you paid for their deaths… that you literally paid for it."_

Joachim's eyes snapped open; he turned to face the bloodied prisoner. The prisoner's smile widened as he realized he now had Joachim's complete, undivided attention. Joachim paid no attention to each and every Feldgendarmerie man standing there, staring shocked at the one sided conversation being waged against the former SS man.

"I heard… I heard that Heydrich used _your_ pay to purchase the rope he used and emptied out your accounts, giving bonuses to the men who _killed_ and _raped_ your people," he coughed out as he shuffled closer to Hoch. Watching as Joachim blanched, he flat out broke into laughter, adding. "Can you imagine? Your own _money_ paid these men - and they weren't even SS men, either - he got civilian volunteers! In his eyes, you weren't even worth the effort to degrade his men!"

Shaking, Joachim launched himself out of the seat, storming over to the closest Feldgendarmerie guard he saw, he reached into the man's belt and took his rifle bayonet. He turned back. Holding the knife, Joachim approached the bastard still laughing. With all his might he grabbed the prisoner by his hair and dragged him out of the back of the vehicle.

Slamming his knee into the prisoner's face, he dropped him down to the gravel earth and kicking him hard, rolled the man over onto his stomach. Joachim grabbed the man's hand and with all the might possessed in his machine hand, broke the prisoner's index finger, the bone cracking audibly. The prisoners scream was muffled into the gravel, and intensified as Joachim hacked through the finger, soundly cutting it off his hand.

The screams intensified, several of the Feldgendarmerie looked sick, several others rushed to stop Hoch, but stopped as Joachim drew his pistol on them. Seething with great rage and disgust, Joachim's sheer hatred forced the police troops to remain where they were, even after Joachim holstered his pistol and rolled the screaming prisoner over once again. Sneering at the man, he dropped the finger on his chest, his knee coming down and dropping onto his throat, the bloodied blade dangerously poking into where the skin of his neck hid his carotid artery.

He glared hard into the prisoner's eyes, now filled with both anger and tears.

" _Come on, kill me. Show your new friends what you really are. An animal dressed up in a pretty uniform,_ " he sobbed out, just as broken up as Joachim was. _"Do it, Traitor. I have nothing left to live for. Your people have destroyed my life! Kill me and remind your new allies what you are… just a freak, a godforsaken mistake!_ _ **KILL ME**_ _!"_

Joachim remained over top of the death worshiping man. The blade of the bayonet slowly inched away from the artery. He would kill him, but he would not be nice about it. A quick death was too good for the bastard. He would plunge the bayonet deep into his belly and cut back and forth. Make the wound completely untreatable for the medics once he released the prisoner. A slow… terribly agonizing death…

A hand fell onto Joachim's shoulder, breaking Joachim from his murderous thoughts. Standing above him was a man wearing General stripes. His expression was of empathy. Not for the prisoner, but for Joachim. Joachim stared back at Generalmajor Hasso von Manteuffel, the knife still directed at the prisoners Adam's apple, he was bit his lip as he willed himself not to break down and cry in front of his commandant. Judging from the way Manteuffel, he would not have been bothered in the slightest if Hoch did so. It was a look that only Gerald Langer had used before when they addressed Joachim's more personal matters… or perhaps a big brother… something along those lines.

Whatever it was, it made Joachim feel safe…

" _Joachim, it's what he wants. He wants to die_ ," Manteuffel spoke softly, soothingly for Joachim's benefit. _"That is why the Feldgendarmerie bounded him like a pig. He's tried to kill himself three times since we captured him. He knew who you were, and what happened to you, and decided you could commit his suicide for him. Don't do the bastard any favours… sullying yourself for the likes of him… it's so very wrong..."_

Staring wearily at the Generalmajor, Joachim reluctantly loosened the grip on the knife. Manteuffel reached over him and took the bayonet from out of his hand and helped the Regiment commandant back up to his feet. Joachim ignored the staring coming from the many Manteuffel's subordinates, who had followed their Generalmajor outside, he ignored the prisoner sobbing furiously as he was carried away by the Feldgendarmerie. He tiredly walked over to where he was sitting and sat back down, collecting his cap with one hand, his other hand wiping blood onto his trousers.

Manteuffel turned to his gaping subordinates, silently ordered their return to their units. The men obliged and as they left, Manteuffel turned back to face Joachim. There was no anger in his expression. He just… he just seemed to have understood what he did. He turned to the Oberstleutnant, carrying a steaming tin cup full of tea. Taking it from him, Manteuffel carefully placed it into Joachim's limp hand.

"I half expected you to kill Wilhelm Burgdorf the second he opened his mouth," the Generalmajor spoke to the Oberst kindly. "For someone so reputed as a spur of the moment killer, you certainly show remarkable self-restraint. I don't think I could have withstood it if I were in your position…"

Joachim looked up, his hand tightened around the mug as he looked into Manteuffel's kind expression. The prisoner had been Generalmajor Wilhelm Burgdorf? He did not know the man well, but he did know that Burgdorf was the Chief of the Heer Personnel Office. What in the hell had happened to him that drove him to the brink of insanity? It was one thing to be a National Socialist… but to be that far gone…

"Where did you find him?" Joachim muttered as he sipped his tea, that appeared to have been made out of blackberries. A better choice than what he expected.

"My men picked him up outside Cologne not long ago, trying to reach some of his family," Manteuffel replied, watching the man as he was carried away. "It's sad to see a good Wehrmacht man turn into a beast on the National Socialists behest. He placed his faith in the wrong men. Come, Oberst… we have a few matters to address."

Downing the last of the tea, Joachim nodded and stood up, allowing the Generalmajor to guide him into the command post.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Hanala's mind was racing. Where in the hell did this Louis Ferdinand come from?

He was currently absence from his holo-communication pad. His wife apparently was heavily pregnant and needed some of his support. Hanala allowed the departure as it gave her time to finally exhale and question what in the hell was happening here. She had no experiences playing an advocate for someone, other than Joachim –and that had only been because she loved him. Now she was expected to represent the soon-to-be most powerful civilian in Germany. He would be one of the few men who would be able to keep the Wehrmacht and the rest of the German military industrial complex from swallowing the people of the Reich.

And here he was asking her for help. Her! Was he insane?

Hanala lacked basic social skills. She had a temper worse than most people she knew, she barely recognized the Prince as a royal, she thought that his role was a farce set up by Zorah intended to trick the people of Germany into accepting a military focused nation. All of these points she made it her personal business to express to Louis Ferdinand over the past hours and not only did he accept that she felt this way, he actually embraced it! He must have had a screw loose, too much inbreeding. That had to be it.

Whatever the case, he was dead set on offering Hanala the position as his adviser and voice to the Admiralty-Wehrmacht council. Hanala, had still not accepted the position, but she was not going to lie. It was a tempting role to take. As noble as it might have been to be an Admiral focused on the people, there was a lot of policy that she did not get a say in. It was policy that was spooking her whenever she caught wind of it. Some men in the Wehrmacht were talking about setting up a police force, not at all dissimilar to that of the Gestapo. Officially tasked at hunting down hypothetical National Socialist fugitives, they could quite easily be converted to general application against possible dissenters.

Sure, she understood that something needed to be done, but a secret police was an abuse to the few personal freedoms the German people would have in the current situation. When she pointed it out, Zorah dismissed her on the spot. He said that she did not have the capacity nor did she have the right to pass judgement on what the humans chose on their own accord. That may have been true, but if she accepted the deal offered by the Heir of the throne, then that would change. They would have to listen to her opinion about how bad an idea it was.

 _"My apologies, my wife had a bit of an emergency with our eldest. He decided it would be wise to ride up the dumbwaiter. Adventurous to a fault, my boy is."_

Louis Ferdinand returned to his place, the holo-projection of the man gave a slight smile for her. Hanala nodded her head, confused about what had happened to the child, but not interested enough in inquiring about the matter. It was time to continue on.

"You barely know me. If you didn't have your spy keeping tabs on me, you wouldn't know a damn thing," Hanala spoke up; her arms crossing back together as she stared at the image. "What makes you think that I will not end up like Zorah, using you to jump off onto the other influential men in the Reich?"

The soon-to-be Crown Prince merely shrugged unceremoniously.

 _"I do not think you're capable of doing that, at least nowhere near what your colleague has done,"_ Louis stated plainly, his tone amused. _"I think you're more forthright then you give yourself credit for, despite your rather loud and disrespectful posturing."_

Hanala could not help herself. She smiled for half a second. He certainly knew her well enough to know that she would never, ever willingly emulate Halid'Zorah. She tried it once and did not like the backlash.

 _"I had been convinced by Zorah that you were merely an Admiral in name only, meant to fill in the gap to prevent the Conclave from filling in the spot with one of their own,"_ he admitted as Hanala's expression once again turned back into stone. _"Well that might have been the case at first, but not anymore. Many members of your Conclave respect your past several months of service, you have earned the trust and respect of notable military men, Gerd von Rundstedt, Erwin Rommel, and Heinz Guderian. You are one of the most influential Admirals on the board and you do not even know it… or worse… was told otherwise."_

Hanala rubbed her arm, bouncing slightly on the tips of her toes. She did not realize she had gained human supporters, or that the Conclave liked her. If Louis wasn't making shit up and Canaris was spying on Zorah, then perhaps there was some truth to the matter.

 _"I would not feel too bad. You aren't the only one believing in such things. The same goes to for your friend Joachim Hoch,"_ Louis reassured Hanala, the mention of her love's name making Hanala blink. _"In his understandable guilt and self-loathing, he has seemed to forgotten how many powerful friends he has made, Gerd von Rundstedt, who I believe did not believe in Joachim's fighting prowess, now speaks highly of him. In fact it was he who convinced the Wehrmacht to adopt him from the Waffen-SS. Erich von Manstein, who was in favour of the capture of Adolf Hitler, persuaded him to do it. He has also inadvertently made powerful friends in the war devoted cadre of the Waffen-SS officers. Not to mention that he performed an intervention on Erwin Rommel's son, who was also dabbling in National Socialism. To pretend that you both cannot do anything will waste the amount of good you can do for my people and yours."_

Hanala tried not to gape. Joachim genuinely believed that that everyone absolutely hated him for his actions. That he was a traitor in the eyes of his Waffen-SS comrades, and not to be trusted by the Wehrmacht. He was so convincing that even she believed that might have been the case. Doing the right thing rarely was rewarded, especially when it was something history changing. Now she was finding out that in the course of several months he had accumulated all these men's respect… For God's sake he went so far as to save Rommel's son from following the same destructive path Joachim blindly took. How in the hell could Joachim still delude himself into thinking such things?

All that Hanala knew was two things. First and foremost, she would find Joachim the best mental health specialists she could find for him. Even if it took her having to scour the western English speaking countries for the help he needed.

Second, was that Ernst Kaltenbrunner would burn if she ever saw him. Literally, she would set the freak on fire if she ever found out he was within two kilometres of Joachim, Saleb and her. He was the one who had poured his new found fatalism into his conscious. A few words from him and Joachim was likely permanently changed

 _"Beyond the short term ensuring that the Reich survives the Soviets, our long term goal which we must attain is to form an equal partnership between quarian and human kind, more than that… a friendship,"_ the Prince pressed onto the woman, who suddenly found herself more enraptured by what he was saying than she cared to admit. _"It is in my estimation that a student/teacher relationship would be just as risky as simply dumping technology on us. The resentment on our part would be likely to occur, rivalry and God forbid -war will eventually follow. A friendship between people presents opportunities for both races to take the other's hand and lead them for a while and let go before resentment builds. Two races teaching each other is much more beneficial than one shoving information down the other's throat."_

Hanala continued to stare at the man speaking. This was… this was so beyond what she was expecting to hear from him. It was idealistic. Every German she ever came across was a stone cold realist. They never assumed anything unless there was a solid foundation to base their judgement on. This man was standing here talking about shifting the entire policy developed and already being deployed. Not only was this different, but it was… it was a better policy.

It made sense. Although humans were technologically in the dust compared to quarians, Hanala could not for a moment deny that the humans were much more in touch with each other than quarians were with each other. Technology drove a wedge in the common social interaction between each other. Humans not having access to such things were forced to be social creatures. Hanala was not blind to it; she could see it in the way that quarian children and even Saleb interacted with Magda Goebbels' children. They were slower, more docile, and dependent on electronics to entertain them. Saleb's interactions with the Goebbels children left Saleb in a much happier mood than she was in before.

Humans also engaged in even more public holidays and festivals, each more absurd than the next. Absurd perhaps, but they were moments of joy and gatherings that her people simply did not do any more. Perhaps following humanity's teachings, the quarian people could return to being in touch with their selves and each other in a way not seen in centuries. It could help her people stake a step back and not repeat the same acts that led to the geth being created.

 _"This is the other reason I come to you,"_ the Prince spoke up, breaking Hanala from her thoughts. _"You have the ability, the motivation and knowledge to lead the way into forming an actual friendship between our two peoples. You are ready for this, Admiral Jarva. Even if you do not think you are."_

Hanala exhaled unsteadily.

"I get what you're saying, and I agree wholeheartedly with your sentiment… I just think that you vastly overestimate my ability to do something about the triumvirate set up by my Father, Zorah and Falan," Hanala spoke gently, her hands wringing together. I might have friends, but that hardly constitutes power on my part. Joachim and I are young, extremely young when you consider our positions. All of these powerful friends we made might like us, but we are still children to the-"

 _"Youth is not an excuse the two of you can use anymore!"_ Louis Ferdinand snapped out straight away. _"If Joachim and you want affect a change, then it must be you both that help break that grip. You and I must convince this older generation that your voice is as full of reason as Zorah's… even if you are rather loud, and use rather colourful words to express your point."_

Hanala could not help but chuckle, thankful the blue tint holograph of her would not display a blush. Yes, that was something she needed to work on. She blamed it on Joachim, who used vulgarities a lot when he was drinking –and he was always drinking.

Her laughter died down as she realized something. Louis was genuinely upset. Hanala did not imagine that it was directed at her. He just appeared mad at the situation, mad at himself and mad at the man who spurred the Prince into approaching Hanala in the first place.

 _"I was such a fool. There was a time when I believed Zorah spoke for the best interests of the State. Now I see that he acts in the best interest to preserve the military strength of the Wehrmacht for his future liberation plans. Everyone else is second,"_ he continued, his voice rising _. "He, and to a lesser extent, your Father have forgotten that Germany is not a nation of eighty million soldiers. If he wanted me to speak for the people, then goddammit I will speak for them!"_

His sudden surge of anger reached its crescendo, and then died down. Louis turned away bitterly. His quietness gave her a moment to appreciate that perhaps there was more to the man then she was willing to give credit to. He was clearly a man in over his head, but he had enough of a moral clarity and a realization of his position that he wanted to step forward and make change even when it was such a difficult thing to do.

Hanala rubbed the back of her neck. Despite this being a positive, this was getting very messy. Unfortunately for her, the only Admiral she could approach would be the isolationist, Admiral Habva'Vaerhit. Noted for his disgust in the humans, it should have been clear to him that there was no reversing on the plans. All he could do now was sit around and do nothing other than mope that the decision was made without his backing. Perhaps in his bitterness, he would align with her against Zorah, who had essentially developed this plan and put them in this situation. Perhaps she could convince Father to pull his backing out of Zorah once a large portion of the players no longer trusted Zorah.

She did not want to stand against her Father. Saleb absolutely adored her grandparents, and especially her Grandfather who stepped up and painfully took over the role as a Father figure to her in the wake of his son's death. Straining that relationship presented even more complications. She would have to approach Father carefully, respectfully. Louis did not seem to have the same problem with him as he did Zorah. Perhaps he could weaken his stance against the militarism running rampant in some sort compromise. She did not know, this was all new to her and would need to be addressed as time went by.

"I have a few people I can approach," she admitted out loud, speaking more to herself rather than to the man. "Zorah is not a person who will give up a powerful connection easily. You will have to flat out approach him and tell him that you want to shift your partnership to me right in front of his colleagues. Do not worry about embarrassing him; I will handle him and his backlash. I'm not as intimidated by his past as I imagine he thinks I ought to be..."

Hanala trailed off as she took notice to the Prince standing there, amuse that she was apparently already plotting on his behalf. Groaning, her fingers gripping the bridge of her nose, she looked up to Louis Ferdinand. Keelah, she hoped she did not have to regret this.

"So… yes, I suppose that I am agreeing to help you."

To his credit, Louis simply nodded his head. Silently accepting Hanala's decision rather than making a show out of it.

"But just because he releases control of you, doesn't mean he'll lose any of his sway. He will still have the major players in the Wehrmacht and National Socialist politicians he's going to need to have in order to form a new government of his choosing, you at best have at a few nostalgic old men on your side," Hanala pressed on, her words becoming a boilerplate warning to the enthusiastic noble. "This is going to be an uphill battle… Although I imagine from the experiences of the last Kaiser, you would not want to be a puppet to the military. So we will have to convince some of them to work with us."

Louis Ferdinand nodded, he appeared to have understood the position they were in. This could have had the potential to become a long, messy and personal battle. It was a battle that could cost the Prince all of his power and Hanala her position. The difference of course was that Hanala didn't really care about her rank or level. As long in the end she got to make a home on Earth with Saleb… and perhaps with Joachim at her side, then that was all that mattered. Everything else was simply detail.

 _"Something will have to be thought of and soon…"_ Louis had started to say, when he raised his omni-tool. Reading the contents, his face turned grim as he looked up to the curious Hanala. _"I am afraid that I shall be cutting the connection sooner than I intended. Zorah has concluded the meeting with Canaris. It was a pleasure that we can come to an agreement."_

Nodding in understanding, Hanala watched as the Prince… her new partner started to cut the connection. He paused however and offered Hanala a small smile.

 _"You know, Between Joachim's service and our alliance, I think it's high time I find a reward for you,"_ he spoke mildly. _"Would you be comfortable with a Countess title? Countess Hanala'Jarva has a rather nice ring to it…"_

Unceremoniously, Hanala leaned over and cut the connection before she would have time to give a reply. Hearing the sound of Canaris and Zorah talking to one another approaching the communication center, Hanala crossed her arms. She tried her absolute best not to call the Prince back and accept the Countess appointment.

She did have to admit… Countess Hanala Hoch certainly would have a nice ring to it…

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The sun felt so good on his skin. It felt as though for an hour, Dalad was finally free.

His chains off his ankles and wrists, he was technically free if he put stock in that belief. There were easily a hundred men in the grounds surrounding the bunker complex that Skorzeny was holding Adrian and him. While they were under orders not to shoot him, they would still punish an escape attempt on his part. Of course that implied he would be able to manage one. Dalad had been utterly broken down in his strength to commit to something like that. It also didn't help that the Germans were the ones holding onto all of the stuff that would be required for him to survive -Namely food and a basic understanding of where in the hell he was.

No, there was no escape and Skorzeny was confident enough to believe that. All his dreams to escape were just those… dreams.

Screwing the lid of the water container, he tossed it back to the closest sentry trailing them. He turned back continued to walk in silence with Adrian as his companion. He seemed just as happy to be out in the sun as he did. It made Dalad wonder just how long Adrian had been held. He could have been held in Skorzeny's custody as long as he had been, just treated better until the recent few weeks.

" _Adrian_?" he spoke up, deciding he would ask him the question on his mind.

Adrian did not reply. His focus was devoted on the vehicle coming to a stop on a few hundred metres away from them.

As the vehicle came to a stop, out climbed Otto Skorzeny himself; his eyes hard as he slammed the car door behind him. His mere presence made Dalad step back and join the staring Adrian. The man paid no attention to his prisoners as he moved around the other side of his vehicle. He opened the door and leaned down; grabbing what appeared to be a small human… a child. Ignoring the child's screaming, Skorzeny lifted the child up placed her over his shoulder.

The child continued to scream, her small hands hitting the giant as hard as she could, but to no avail. Skorzeny merely carried the child in the direction of the prison Dalad and Adrian were held in; his other hand clutching his pistol, now out of his holster.

Dalad was suddenly shoved out of the way. It was Adrian, he was screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran to intercept Skorzeny before he retreated into the prison. He paid no attention to the three guards that were giving chase to him. Before he could reach half way, one of the sentries had tackled the man to the ground and worked his hardest to keep the screaming Father from pushing him off. It took the other two guards to suppress him. One jumping on to Adrian, the other with his rifle aimed only centimetres from Adrian's forehead.

"Waltraut… he has her," he sobbed out to the quarian. "I-I told him that I was not willing to torture you… I didn't think he would do this that bastard! _**LET HER GO**_!"

Dalad looked in the direction of the building they were held in. Skorzeny stood there; the child was grabbed by one of the sentries and was grabbed kicking and screaming inside. The man who had abducted Adrian's daughter remained perfectly emotionless. Devoid of all sympathy for his prisoner, Skorzeny moved inside, leaving the Father behind to cry angry tears.

It was too good to be true. In both of their fogged up minds, they had forgotten that it was Skorzeny who called the shots, and he did nothing without a good reason. This was a reminder of just how high the sakes the two of them were playing. It was a message sent to the two men: For Adrian, it was time to escalate his work on the Flight Lieutenant, for Dalad, it was a clarification of what his stubborn resistance was about to do to someone who had spent the past weeks defending him.

Well... Dalad was going to return the favour now.

Pushing his guard's hand off his shoulder, Dalad stumbled away from the human and towards Adrian where he laid struggling against the men who held him to the ground, still screaming, still sobbing, still begging Skorzeny even though he was no longer there.

 **"LET HIM GO!"** he shouted at the jailers.

The guards looked up to him, all three of them surprised by the sheer vitriol in Dalad's defence of the man. Looking to one another, and then to the sobbing mess sprawled underneath them. Knowing Adrian was no threat anymore, they pulled themselves off the man and back off, leaving Dalad to rush to the man's side the best that he could in his state.

Adrian was utterly inconsolable as Dalad sat down next to him, his hand pressing against the sobbing man's back. Before he knew it, the human had wrapped his arms around him and held his face into Dalad's chest, sobbing still like his child was already dead. No matter how hard he tried, he could not imagine the absolute terror that must have been instilled in Adrian. Adrian knew better than most how willing his colleagues… old colleagues would follow their orders to the letter… even if it meant killing a child as punishment.

"Take me back to my cell, Adrian," he whispered to the frightened fellow Father. "Tell… tell Skorzeny I'll sit down with him."

Adrian did not hear what he said. He was still sobbing terribly. With what strength he had left, Dalad pulled the man away from him and slapped the man on the face. It worked, Adrian, still wild eyed, and looked at Dalad once again, his eyes swollen from the bruising and the tears.

"I'll sit down with him. I _swear_ I will," he once again assured Adrian, whose eyes widened at the sudden assurance.

Adrian dropped his head, unable to look at Dalad in the eye. He nodded shyly as he dried his eyes. It took all of Dalad's efforts not to vomit. After all this time he was going to give up… he was going to let the unthinkable happen.

He was going to add the National Socialists in raiding the fleet…

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _ **10…**_

 _ **9…**_

 _ **8…**_

 _ **7…**_

 _ **6…**_

 _ **5…**_

 _ **4…**_

 _ **3…**_

 _ **2…**_

 _ **1…**_

Looking up from his stopwatch as it ran out of time, Dieter Hertzer and the rest of his crew listened as the artillery barrage fired their last rounds. The whistling and distant explosions went almost silent. Dieter's excitement grew exponentially. The order was coming in a matter of seconds. Soon he would be rolling Sigrid III across the field of battle turning every poor bastard that got within two kilometres of his goddamn Tiger II.

As he gave a small, silent prayer to the patron saint of tank combat, Heinz Guderian, a message that Hertzer had waited for since learning about this upcoming battle when it was in the making. A voice broke out over their radio equipment, a voice that was leery, but not worried.

"This is Hoch," the voice crackled over the radio to the entirety of the Regiment. "Malevolent Breakthrough is a go, all forward panzers units are engage according to operational parameters which have been set out, second infantry battalion prepare your advance. Take it nice and slow and use what cover you can find. Good luck to you all, we'll see you on the other side."

The five man crew exploded into a cheer, purposely sending it out across the 438th Panzergrenadier Regiment. As soon as Hertzer closed the frequency, he turned to his crew, his expression breaking into a wild grin for the men. It was time to get back to what they did best: Punish the enemy.

"You heard the Commandant!" he screamed to his men, unable to control his bloodlust. "Load the gun and push into second gear. Get us our first catch of the day!"

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Today was a good day.

His face cleaned from the dried blood, his uniform washed and pressed, Adrian von Fölkersam dabbed the bruising around his eyes and then nearly bounced out of his quarters and into the halls of the barrack.

To saw that he was excited would be an understatement, but who could blame him for whistling a jaunty tune. After nearly a month of continuous questioning, the quarian that was supposed to have broken down in a matter of days ahead finally relented in his silence. He was now willing to sit down and work with the Waffen-SS mission. The operation to retrieve the Führer from the aliens was back on schedule.

Adrian had to give credit where credit was due. This was the toughest man… well, alien, he ever had to interrogate. He stood fast against the mind games Adrian instilled in him, the beatings ordered by Otto Skorzeny, the starvation, the dehydration, the sleep deprivation, the waterboarding's. In the end it took a small child being in danger and a Father's grief to convince him to sit down. Skorzeny may not have liked the quarians, but Adrian had to respect the sheer fortitude presented by the pilot. It was almost a shame that the higher ups decided the quarians needed to abandon humanity. They would have been valuable allies had they not been so against the will of the Führer.

Now it was onto the next step: Negotiations. Otto Skorzeny was a stubborn man who did not like to approach as a man with a weakness. His bravado would serve the assault well, but convincing the alien to willingly go along with assisting the plot would require that they work within a few of Dalad's parameters – at least at face value. Skorzeny would have to learn the powerful skill of suppressing one's own ego in order to move onto the next stage, or else the alien could very well lock back up, or worse, use his new freedom to sabotage the operation.

Knocking on the door to Skorzeny's private rooms, Adrian did not wait for a response. He entered the room and found Skorzeny and his daughter, Waltraut sitting together at the dining table, eating bowls of what appeared to be a vanilla ice cream. Skorzeny was whispering funny little comments that made the little girl cry out in annoyance with her Father.

Adrian cleared his throat, making Skorzeny turn away from his child to focus on the interrogator.

"That did it, we finally broke him down!" Adrian announced to his boss and inadvertently to the child who served as the final straw. "He's going to sit down with you and talk about it. I suggest that you do it, but so long as we aren't too controlling in the _'negotiation'_ , then we'll have his willing assistance. Thank you so much for convincing Emmi to allow this one to assist us. It saved us a week or two and a lot of finger rem… messy work."

Adrian quickly censored himself. He was on the verge of subjecting the quarian to a vigorous, disfiguring torture regiment if he held out for any longer. He was on the verge of giving Otto an inventory of tools he required for his work when Skorzeny told him he brought his suggestion to the attention of his wife. His wife took a little convincing, but in the end she decided to take pity on the so-called criminal he was working over.

Smiling at the sudden shift in what Adrian said; Skorzeny wrapped an arm around Waltraut, who was finishing her last mouthful of ice cream and humming happily as she ate.

"Did you hear that, Waltraut?" Otto addressed his daughter, a conspiratorial smile shining for the girl. "Our acting paid off, I imagine you're going to be a famous movie star when you grow up. I'll give Leni Riefenstahl a call. For now I think it's time for more Ice Cream."

Little Waltraut cried out in agreement. Adrian could not help but smile as the child grabbed her emptied bowl. Her Father leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead, placing his bowl into hers.

"You go and fill up our bowls," the Father spoke again to the girl. "I have to speak to Uncle Adrian. Why don't you find another bowl and have one ready for him as well."

The three year old, who was apparently already one of her Father's junior soldiers, looked to Adrian, who smiled for her and nodded. Waltraut hopped off the seat she was sitting in and went to the kitchen, leaving Skorzeny and Adrian alone for the moment. As soon as she was gone, Skorzeny stood up and went to radio set sitting near the front door.

"Kurtz, I want you to provide a proper meal for the alien… well... as proper as one can be provided. He's going to need his strength up," Skorzeny ordered as he clicked the transmitter. "Take off his chains and leave them off for the night. Understood?"

Getting an affirmative from Rottenführer, Skorzeny placed the radio transmitter back down and turned back to Adrian. He approached the younger man, his face exploded into a wide grin that contorted his scar. His heavy hand fell hard onto Adrian's shoulder. It did not take much effort from the huge Austrian to rock the scrawnier Baltic German back and forth.

"Adrian, you came through for me. This won't be forgotten," Otto reiterated to his subordinate as he let go of Adrian. "I can go to Himmler now; he'll get in contact with that former quarian admiral he kept in touch with. As soon as I know how to use the shuttle and have a location on the Führer, then everything shall be set-"

 _ **"-PAPA, I can't reach the booowls!"**_

Skorzeny smiled dazzlingly at the voice of his daughter. Nodding to Adrian he turned and followed the echo of the child. Exhaling as he could now finally relax, Adrian pushed himself off the table and followed the Father and commando. He more than earned a little treat. For now, all thoughts of the upcoming bargaining session were pushed aside.

For now he would simply revel in his victory.

...

* * *

...

 **Changes: Clean up**

 **I'll leave it here for now. Thanks for reading!**


	10. A Sudden, But Inevitable Betrayal

**Chapter Ten: A Sudden, But Inevitable Betrayal**

 **…**

Staring into her mirror, Hanala exhaled a mouthful of cigarette smoke.

She knew better than to smoke, as unhealthy as it was with humans, it went double for quarians, whose body was unable to absorb the poison properly. It did not matter to her. She was all nerves at the moment and the poison she was inhaling had worked to settle her before.

Besides, it was just one cigarette. It was a habit she hadn't indulged in since January.

She was going to need a steady head. It had been decided by Louis Ferdinand that the next meeting of the Wehrmacht-Admiralty Council, it would be time to unveil the intentions shared between Hanala and the Prince. Unfortunately, that meant Hanala had three local days to prepare for the meeting

Although he held no tangible military or political power, Louis Ferdinand was the one man Halid needed to convince the German populace to accept the quarian arrival and welcome the new future they would help provide, converting the Third Reich, into the Fourth Reich that would closely resemble that of the Second. That made the future Kaiser a long-term investment, and a man as patient as Halid, taking a long term investment was likely more dangerous then he already was.

Halid'Zorah was not particularly upset about the double dealings she had attempted to break Joachim free from service. He was not upset when Gerd von Rundstedt ruined Halid's intention of sending Joachim out to take control of the Gestapo. To Halid, men like Joachim were at his disposal by the thousands. Joachim was simply a tool that could replace.

Louis however… Louis was one of a kind. Progressive Monarch was not a term commonly used, but having spent the past three days getting to know the Crown Prince, Hanala could definitely said that was who he was. Forgetting his title for a moment, Hanala could see that he was a good man, a loving husband, a doting Father to his many children. It was clear that his goals were not just for the country and the people, but it was to provide his family with a brighter future.

That was what made what was about to happen, all the more sweeter. Louis was irreplaceable. All this time she was looking for ways to hurt Halid for all the hell he inflicted onto Joachim. Now she had her answer. This was going to be a delight once she got over the innate sense of fear building up in her. Her Father would be there and she did not want to sour the relationship with him. Not when she was rebuilding her relationship with him. That was the only thing holding her back from simply marching up to the meeting and shoving Halid'Zorah's shit into his face.

As she thought about all the ways Zorah could explode and embarrass himself in front of everyone, her omni-tool gave off a small chime. Frowning, Hanala activated the screen. Its source was coming from Louis Ferdinand's omni-tool outside of East Berlin. It appeared that he was as glittery as her. Once it became clear she was online with him, he sent the first message.

 _LFH: Are all the pieces in place? More importantly, are you prepared?_

Hanala stared at the message for a good, long moment. Yes, everything had been prepared for the coming shake up. She had privately approached the list of ship captain's that Wilhelm Canaris had gathered from his listening into the private correspondence of Halid'Zorah. She gained their support in pushing into the political circle that her Father, Zorah and Falan were in. She also approached Admiral Vaerhit, who after a careful explanation about the Prince's concerns decided he would throw her support behind the Prince and her.

She knew better than to assume he agreed with her, or found a new respectful position. He flat out told her that her appointment had been clear cut nepotism and she had no business being a Captain, let alone an Admiral working her way from a technical role to a policy changer. However as much as he disliked her, he disliked her Father and Zorah more and found the blatant apologist nature of Zorah disturbing. If Hanala wanted to lessen the hold Zorah had over the policies in relation with the humans, then that would be permissible in his eyes, so long as she kept him up to date. With his support in, Hanala would have the backing of the Civilian Fleet in its entirety.

Pursing her lips as she stared at the question, she tapped the cigarette out and laid it on the edge of the sink. It was time to answer his query.

 _HJ: Everything is in place. All of my fleet contacts have been contacted. They support the action for the most part._

There was a pause, long enough for Hanala to grab her cigarette and inhale once again. The digital screen on her omni-tool chat tool flashed once again.

 _LFH: You didn't answer the entire question._

Hanala chuckled slightly. He was not one to be danced around with. It was already clear with her that she would not have a whole lot of leniency. He was not willing to be turned into another quarian's pawn like the last time he dealt with her kind. That was good and bad, good because Hanala liked the spirit, bad because she was going to have to set up some sort of boundaries with him. The Prince would have to let her keep some of her privacy. She had to explore into matters that he may not have been ready to know about.

Sighing she responded.

 _HJ: I am prepared; or at least I think I am. Usurping a man from his position is never pretty, no matter how I'll say it._

Not getting a reply right away from Louis Ferdinand, Hanala looked to the chronometer in her omni-tool. Sighing again, Hanala pulled herself back from the bathroom sink, stumping the cigarette out and dropping it into the waste recycler unit. She buttoned her uniform back up and, giving herself a final inspection, she stepped out of her private bathroom and wandered down the corridors of the cruiser _Bismarck_. Her heeled, raised boots, meant to make her not look like a complete midget, clicked down the steel.

Pushing her hand into her hair, she turned the corridor and entered the recreational room, where Saleb and Mother were sitting together, Saleb practicing her reading. They looked up to the uniformed Hanala, who hesitated for a moment, before smiling and stepping forward to join them. Saleb appeared rather annoyed. It was understandable. Hanala's departure for work was contrary to her promise that she had some time off.

Still smiling, she squished herself in between Mother and Saleb, who cried out in annoyance as Hanala wrapped her arm around the brooding child.

"Where are you going?" Saleb demanded from her Aunt, her eye narrowed at her aunt. Even Mother looked over her daughter curiously. Hanala rarely ever donned official admiralty regalia. Hanala could see Mother's mind deducing what was happening.

"Like I told you, I have to go to work for a few hours, I'll be right back," she assured the girl, her arm tightening around Saleb.

Mother arched her brow, her hands wrapping together as they fell to her lap.

"Whatever you intend, I'll suggest that you tread lightly…" Mother recommended to her.

About to reply with an assurance that nothing out of the ordinary was about to happen, Hanala's omni-tool chimed again. Louis had finally answered her. Hanala smiled coyly at her Mother before dropping her gaze to the chat.

 _LFH: That is a reasonable stance. Would you prefer it I join you as soon as you enter the meeting? I have been practicing what I shall say to him should I ever speak to him after you commit to this course of action. I could serve as reinforcement and it could sway a few more Prussians to support you. They may not like me, but they respect my position and family's history enough to at least listen._

Looking up to her Mother and Saleb, Hanala leaned in and planted a kiss on each other their cheeks. She stood up and fled the recreational room and moved down towards the interfleet transport bay, her focus on tapping out her response to the Prince.

As soon as she stepped into the ship elevator, she sent along her response.

 _HJ: Be prepared to join the conversation should he demand what I say to be verified, which he undoubtedly will demand. Please do not antagonize him; do not press your own agenda. Not today. The people gathered must have time to adjust to the new state of affairs. Any change we want to bring must be done a week or so from now. The presentation that it is business as usual must be kept or else the upheaval will spook them. Simply thank the Admiral for his services, express your point of view for why you need the change, and then leave. I will contact you when complete._

The elevator came to a stop in the docking bay. The doors opened and out stepped Hanala, finding herself amongst about two dozen of her ship's skeleton crew. They were assigned to bringing the cruiser back up to an active serviceable state for the first generation of Kreigsmarine sailors to train on. They were currently in the middle of a dinner.

That did not last too long however. Their supervisor looked up, caught sight of their usually casual looking Admiral in full uniform and flew out of his seat.

 _ **"Admiral on deck!"**_

Hanala rubbed the back of her neck as the crew followed suit. She was still extremely uncomfortable with getting this sort of reaction. Unlike Joachim, who seemed to be used to discipline of subordinates, she had never called for it on her service on the _Devoas_ , nor did she demand it when she was utterly upset in the wake of Hoch's detention with the Gestapo. She used the fear she learned from him to get what she needed done. Mutually respectful discipline was new to her.

"I'll need a shuttle pilot," Hanala requested politely to the group. "You can return here as soon as I reach the Kareon."

The engineering crew looked to one another. One of them stepped forward, an older male. Hanala nodded and waved him along to follow her. Together they wandered down the docking bay until they reached the nearest shuttle. Once again, her omni-tool chimed to life, catching her attention enough to pause and allow her pilot to take the lead.

 _LFH: I agree, I shall adhere to you suggestion for the time being, but do not assume I will be as quiet with Zorah, as will be with you. I will be involved in every matter pertaining to our work._

The reminder was enough to make her grin slightly. It was good to find that he was willing to take such a strong stance now. He was done being spoon fed the same empty platitudes that the National Socialists spoon fed to his State. Perhaps there was some hope for him yet.

 _HJ: This may come to you as a surprise, but I am well aware of how partnerships work. Any further assumption that I shall operate like Zorah will not be welcomed with as much patience as I have now. Just be prepared, Your Majesty._

"Prepping the shuttle for take-off, Admiral," she heard over the intercom. "We'll be out in three minutes."

Hanala closed the link between her and the Prince and sat down in the cargo bay of the shuttle. Double checking herself, she looked up to the pilot standing there. She simply nodded to him and as he left to settle into his cockpit, she strapped herself into the seat. Hanala closed her eyes. It was time to prepare herself for what came next.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"The Ruhr is turning into a living hell. The loyalists and the SS have proven more formidable than our initial estimates. It is believed that the SS were broken up into companies and scattered into the Wehrmacht units as reinforcements. The RAF and the Americans have gotten involved. They are intent on turning our industrial capability in the region into rubble that neither side are able to use. Two hundred sorties by day, another hundred and twenty by night. It's almost clockwork. Kesselring, can you send any more units to intercept the attacks?"_

Gerd von Rundstedt's inquiry made the commanding officer of the Luftwaffe, Generalfeldmarschall Albert Kesselring turn to face the older Prussian born. He was looking weary; the Luftwaffe was still in tatters. It would likely require the full efforts of the war industry once all matters were settled in the west before they could take an offensive role. For now the Allies seemingly unlimited reserves of planes were coming over the Atlantic.

Halid'Zorah and Alaan'Jarva remained perfectly silent. No one was aware that as they spoke, the medium and heavy fleets were training their guns all across North America. Lining their sights on nuclear research facilities, aircraft manufacturing plants, shipyards and arguably the most dangerous target of all: A huge pilot training program located in the flatlands of central Canada. It was there that the majority of British and Commonwealth pilots were being sent to for training. Should the Western Allies refuse the peace that the quarians would offer in three months' time, the attack would commence and forty seconds later, the majority of the war making ability would be crippled with minimal North American casualties.

 _"I will do whatever I can do. I'm moving air units out of occupation zones in Poland, Norway and Denmark. Other than that, we're stretched out thin as it is,"_ was Kesselring's strained response. _"I could see if I could convince Rommel to part with his Luftflotte 3 elements, but I will need assurances from you that your forces will do whatever they can do to supplement my aerial defence. That includes redirecting your flak guns back to their intended purpose."_

The holograph of the Prussian stared at the Luftwaffe man pointedly.

 _"I'll see that it happens the moment I see more planes in the sky,"_ Von Rundstedt grumpily returned to the air marshal. _"I've gotten reports from Hasso von Manteuffel that one of his subordinates is ordering the burning of everything he sees; from trees to bushes, forests and buildings in an attempt to cover his men from the air and artillery attack… three guesses who the pyromaniac Oberst is…"_

Although Zorah groaned, Manstein and Alaan'Jarva chuckled appreciably at the barely veiled reference to Joachim Hoch. Of course the lunatic was torching everything he saw. However annoyed Halid might have been Kesselring appeared somewhat intrigued with the statement he heard from the Heer Generalfeldmarschall.

 _"It brilliant if it's applied in large scale; order enough controlled blazes in the cities and the smoke screen may convince enemy air commanders that its risks outweigh the benefits,"_ Kesselring spoke to Rundstedt once again. _"At least it might work on the Americans; they are still trying to abide to strategic bombardment theory. The British, of course, use area bombardment so they don't give a damn who they kill... Manstein would it be possible to convince your fellow Army Group Commanders to-"_

 _"Don't even dare to finish that question, Kesselring. We need as much air support as we can get. We have beaten them back at Kharkov in March, but they inevitably won't stop there,"_ Erich von Manstein shot down the Luftwaffe man. Sighing, he turned to Zorah, adding, _"On that note Kluge, Bock and I are formally withdrawing our intentions to engage in a renewed offensive this year. We will make pushes in several vital areas, and we may end the siege of Leningrad, but this year must be dedicated to blunting the Soviet Army and their morale gain after Stalingrad. You must find someone to try to convince Mannerheim to commit more troops in the north. The Finns appear to be our only useful allies in the region. Whatever the case, a general offensive shall begin next spring."_

Typing down the suggestion made by Erich von Manstein, Alaan'Jarva nodded and looked back up to the Army Group Don Commander.

"Do you have your figures from Kharkov?" Jarva inquired from Erich von Manstein. "I will send word to the lunar factories that you will need an armaments shipment."

 _"Please do. We took fifty thousand casualties on our side is the estimation,"_ Von Manstein addressed the fellow militarist. _"We don't have an exact number on the enemy, but we believe that the Soviets lost at least fifty divisions in the offensive. It appears likely that they will try this attack again, in Kharkov, or elsewhere. The Soviet general staff is growing tricky, but it appears Stalin's hands are holding the choke chains on his commanders as hard as Hitler had on us. Stalin may be our best ally at the moment..."_

Erich von Manstein trailed off as two new men joined the circle, both men donning weary expressions and the markings of Waffen-SS affiliation. One was older than the other, although it was the younger one who was completely bald. Male pattern baldness was a terrible affliction that humans hadn't solved yet.

 _"Obergruppenführer Hausser, Gruppenführer Bittrich,"_ Zorah greeted the new arrivals to their first meeting with the council. _"It's a pleasure for you to join us at long last."_

Although the kind words had been offered to Paul Hausser and Wilhelm Bittrich, it did little to sway the opinions instilled in the gathering. There was an ironic sense amongst the Wehrmacht men that the Waffen-SS were opportunists of the highest order. The three leading members of the Waffen-SS were keeping the huge and extremely battle hardened paramilitary group from making a final decision in where it stood in the war.

The first man was a realist in nature, but ultimately he was still a diehard National Socialist. He was Oberst-Gruppenführer Josef _'Sepp'_ Dietrich. Dietrich was a man was conflicted by his duties. As much as he wanted his men to serve their country, so long as Hitler lived, his service and the service of the 1st SS Panzer Division 'Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler' would always be ultimately dedicated to the service of the Führer. The LSSAH were Hitler's Praetorian Guard and not once would they waver until they saw Hitler's body lying before them.

Rommel reported frequently that Dietrich was growing more and more impatient. He was looking for ways to get out of Egypt as he believed less and less in the cover story of Hitler's death. Tactically speaking, he was not much of a challenge. He lacked a lot of strategic skill, but what he lacked in formal military education, he made up with having a keen eye for talent. His subordinates were utterly brilliant carrying out his goals.

The second man was by far the most pragmatic of the three. He was the man standing before them, Obergruppenführer Paul _'Papa'_ Hausser. Paul Hausser was the clear cut case of them all; it was his legacy being placed at stake with the recent Civil War breaking out. It had been him who approached Hitler and Himmler about taking the most skilful members of the SS, sending them to SS Junker training school and creating the first incantation of the Waffen-SS -the SS-VT, or SS-Verfügungstruppe. After the Civil War broke out, Paul Hausser had pulled himself out of an administrator role and was back in command of the 2nd SS Panzer Division 'Das Reich'. Of the three, Das Reich had the cleanest record in the Waffen-SS, and in some cases, some units in the Heer. This was thanks in large part to Hausser's Prussian ancestry demanding that he not sully his project for the whims of the Allgemeine-SS.

The third man could be best described with the words of the young Joachim Hoch _: 'Human vermin that needed to be euthanized'_. He was Obergruppenführer Theodor Eicke. After a political quarrel with a Gauleiter that ended with Eicke in a mental asylum for three months, he was released by Himmler's order and together, they built and ran the concentration camp system long before they had been converted by Heydrich and Eichmann into genocide slaughterhouses.

As the war started, Eicke decided that many of the men in the SS-Totenkopfverbände were both well trained, and extremely bored with guarding the various political prisoners and early undesirables that ended up in their hands. So he gathered volunteers and it wasn't long before he had formed the 3rd SS Panzer Division 'Totenkopf'. It did not take long for the Totenkopf men to gain a reputation as ferocious fighters that lacked restraint on whatever that stood in their way… or was in the wrong place at the wrong time. To Eicke, that was what the Waffen-SS had to become. They had to be an unstoppable force that terrified the enemy into cowed submission. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Erich von Manstein's victory at Kharkov would not have been possible without the herculean efforts of the Totenkopf and Eicke, who was nearly killed there as well.

Sepp Dietrich, Paul Hausser and Theodor Eicke…. loyalty, personal honour and ferocity; they were three men with three separate visions of the Waffen-SS's role in the Reich's war against the world. It was these three men whose elite Waffen-SS units were looked up to by the newcomer Waffen-SS units. The newcomer units would throw their support behind one of the three men to choose from, as though it was a popularity contest. Unfortunately it was in everyone's estimation that once it was clear that Hitler was alive, any difference between Sepp Dietrich and Theodor Eicke would be forgotten. They would suppress their differences and convince the majority of the Waffen-SS to move to Germany and join in on the side of the Loyalists. Hausser and Bittrich would be left in a minority and likely grouped together with the maniacs.

Speaking of Bittrich, there was a second reason why the 'Das Reich' Panzer Division had fought a relatively clean war up until this point. It was thanks to the Waffen-SS general standing before the Heer and quarian admiralty. Gruppenführer Wilhelm Bittrich was the personal product of Paul Hausser, his mentor and teacher. He had taken command of the division shortly after Hausser was reassigned. It was not much different than that of Gerald Langer and Joachim Hoch before that fell apart. Bittrich was utterly loyal to Hausser and his new task of bringing about as many Waffen- SS commanders and men to see that Himmler and Heydrich viewed them with contempt, simple tools to be thrown at the Wehrmacht.

 _"I came from a rather strained meeting with Himmler, Heydrich, Müller, Jodl and Keitel. They have requested we be their voice to you,"_ Hausser addressed the gathering, his tone displeased by the names he mentioned. _"They have officially requested both sides to stand down and aid in the defence of the Ruhr Valley against the Allied bombing campaign. Should you assist them, they would be open to increasing their armaments shipments to the Eastern Front."_

The deal made the gathering mutter amongst each other, Hausser and Bittrich remained silent for a good long moment.

 _"It's in our estimation that it would be wise to come to an agreement and end the battle,"_ Wilhelm Bittrich finished on behalf of his mentor as the conversation died. _"Losing more men and material that should be directed towards the Allies and the Soviets would be unwise. They are not being unreasonable in their demands."_

Just as Zorah predicted, the oldest man in the room exploded first.

 _"Forget those damn Nazi apologists and scum; we have made quite enough deals with them since 1933. No more!"_ Gerd nearly screamed out at the two Waffen-SS men, making the collection of men turn directly to him. _"We must conquer the region, drive them back or slay them, then defend the region ourselves. I will not back down when my task force is so close to a victory!"_

Erich von Manstein stared at Gerd von Rundstedt, his expression almost amused by the explosive temper he had. It was little wonder why Gerd had a damaged heart considering his temper. That said, his anger was what kept him alive. Through sheer rage and willpower, he suffered through a heart attack without so much as stopping while he was on the verge of taking Rostov.

 _"While Gerd's anger is not wrong, nor misdirected, we must think about this with reality in mind,"_ Erich pointed out to the gathering. _"Every day the bombing goes undefended on the ground, it will only further smash our war making capabilities. The Ruhr is home to a good portion of our coal and steel industry. We simply do not have time in that region to clean it out when two hundred bombers a day are making it into the Ruhr. We must cease this battle, create a cooperative military zone and fend off these attacks until they cease their mission. It was likely Keitel and Jodl`s idea, and as subservient they may be to Hitler, they know something needs to be done and it will take both sides to do it..."_

"Cooperative military zone?"

Halid and Alaan turned to the source of the familiar voice standing outside of the holoprojector. It was Alaan's Daughter, Hanala. She stood there in full Admiral Regalia, her hands in fists at side of her slender body. She was even wearing height enhancing boots to project her image of authority. Alaan smiled to his child, Halid did not. She had no business being here. Every time she got involved, it was usually in ways that dampened his goals. She was too young and too idealistic about the Germans she had all but adopted herself to.

Suppressing his annoyance, Halid stepped off the holopad and approached the short woman. His mouth forming into a smile for her, friendly enough for her to seem that it was safe enough for her to drop her guard. She did not bite. She remained solidly self-guarded. She was not the same woman she once was. Joachim Hoch taught her the art of self-control.

"Admiral Jarva, always a pleasure for you to be in our company," Halid greeted the Admiral-in-name-only, disabling his translation software so that they could speak in Khellish only. "I'm afraid however that you are interrupting a rather important meeting. If you have something you need to say…"

"I do, and I think you will want to hear it now," Hanala snapped back, her voice stern and unwilling to oblige any niceties he set up.

Halid dropped his smile. His eyes narrowed at the younger woman in a way that reminded her that he was not exactly the kindest man when treated rudely. Realizing that this confrontation wasn't going to go away, he did not reply. Hanala took it as a sign to continue.

"It appears as though Prince Louis Ferdinand no longer feels that the two of you have shared interests…" Hanala breathed, her lips curved into a smirk as she watched Halid's eyes widen slightly. "He feels that your efforts now put the liberty of German citizens at risk. He has since decided to part ways with you, but he needed to be represented. As such, he approached me about the position as his adviser. I have agreed to do so… if only to see you squirming in the way you're squirming right now."

Zorah blinked, his breathing became unsteady for a moment. He stepped back, his lip curled as he displayed his sharp teeth to Hanala. Canaris… that tricky son of a bitch… he had been presenting him with all sorts of notes on the Eastern Front that could have been given to the Eastern Front Commanders to decipher. It was all a ploy to give the Prince this chance to contact her of all people.

"Hanala… what are you doing?"

Alaan'Jarva had stepped off the holopad to confront his child. He had agreed with Halid that by no means was she ready to be in this room, making interspecies policy. Halid tried not to appear grateful for the older military man's injection into this terrible and sudden betrayal of trust inside the Admiralty. If there was one person here that could make this troublemaker pause, it would be Alaan.

Hanala did not look to her Father. She held her eyes hard on Halid.

"I'm doing the only thing that will go noticed by Falan and you. I want the two of you to turn away from blind support to Zorah," she spoke to her Father as she held her glare on Halid. "I realize that he has cleaned up much of the mess Grandmother left behind, but in doing so he treats Germany as some sort of feudal system where the military takes precedence over everything else. The Prince has seen it and has decided that enough was enough."

At least she understood the sheer amount of work that he had do in order to rectify Jalina'Calis's rash, presumptive choice that Germany was the nation to back. Alaan remained unmoved by what his daughter had said. He stepped forward until he was three steps behind Halid.

"It's war, Hanala. That is the usual reaction which occurs," he reminded her in a way not dissimilar to what a father would use on a petulant child. "The army has to come first for the sake of the nation. What good are the people's liberties if they are vanquished because their needs came before the country? Please daughter, just go… you still have much left to understand about how the council must operate."

For the first time, Hanala was distracted; she turned her angry eyes to Alaan.

"Father I will _not_ be talked down to by you. Not now! Not when I know what I know!" she snapped, fuming furiously enough to make her Father take a step back. "Are you aware of the full extent of Halid's operation against Hitler?"

Halid felt as though he had been unexpectedly sacked in the gut. Much of what occurred there had been more or less kept from the eyes of the Admiralty who were assured that it would have been a clean grab, and that no real civilian presences would be harmed there. Hanala glanced briefly to him and glared at the man before turning back to her Father.

"Erich von Manstein himself can confirm that Guderian had been ordered to attack and kill everyone at the Kehlsteinhaus. He was so disgusted that he went there in person to warn Joachim about the impending attack," Hanala informed her staring Father, Minister Speer was allowed to evacuate his family… even that pig Ernst Kaltenbrunner got to leave alive with his family, but Magda Goebbels and four of her seven children were considered necessary sacrifice. You saw the children, you saw their Mother in the fleet and in my home. None of the children left behind were over ten and they were all supposed to _die_ for his cover!"

Alaan's eyes widened significantly as he absorbed the news offered. Halid rubbed the bridge of their nose. Neither of them understood that the whole purpose was to convince the National Socialists just how serious the rebels were in their desire for a change. It was nothing personal. He didn't particularly care about the lives of a few when he had been given the chance to potentially keep the situation from spiralling into Civil War.

"The lives of four children and a morally dubious mother weighed against the chance of keeping the peace and sparing thousands of innocent men, women and children their lives was a sacrifice I was willing to make," Halid flat out admitted, forcing Hanala to look at him once again. "If your _human_ had found his nerve, Hitler's death would all but assure peace in the Reich, there would have been no reason for my attack on the chalet, no reason to harm those children! There would have been no reason for the huge terrorist campaign in South Germany that killed tens of thousands. No, it all happened because instead of doing what was necessary, he found himself growing a conscious and finding mercy for the one man who deserved mercy least of all others on that miserable planet. Because of Hoch, we had to lie and not have the ability to produce the evidence back the lie! This war is because of him as much as it is because of the loyalist delusions!"

A sudden and resounding slap echoed through the communication centre. Hanala's hand had connected faster than the older quarian could have anticipated. Pain shot through his face but it was quickly suppressed by his years of pain management exercise. His cheek turning purple, he turned back to face Hanala who was glaring at him, her eyes wild, her teeth bared. Hanala was beyond furious. She wanted blood spilled across the floor.

Sneering at Halid, Hanala turned back to her Father.

"So were you aware of this, Father?" She demanded. "Were you aware of any of this? If you weren't, then it might be time to seriously rethink the extent of your partnership with Zorah, if he's making all these unilateral decisions without your knowledge."

Alaan remained silent, his expression long since softened. All of this had been news to him. He was trying to digest it, and as he did, it became clearer and clearer to him. Hanala offered her Father a sad smile in return. Halid, on the other hand, wanted nothing better than to allow himself the pleasure of wrapping his hands around the short-sighted bitch's throat. She was doing more damage to him than she was realizing. This alone was enough to shake up the power structure in the Admiralty Board.

"I don't think you were..." Hanala spoke for him, her voice levelling out.

Alaan remained dead silent by the words offered by his child. He knew nothing he could possibly say in response. Instead Hanala sidestepped past Halid, her hands reaching out; she took a hold of his and smiled up at her significantly taller Father.

"Father, it is one thing to be involved in the war, and you are right, the military must come first," she added, emphasizing her point to the stunned man. "It's quite another thing to wage a dirty war to make our efforts look legitimate… and whether you like it or not, the needs of the people must be addressed from time to time."

Kissing her Father's cheek, she stepped onto the holopad and joined the Wehrmacht and SS men. Halid glanced to Alaan, and found the Admiral was staring at him brutally. As involved as Alaan was in the efforts to root out the more cancerous elements in Germany, he was not privy to the operational details of the mission Zorah had undertaken.

"We will be discussing this quicker than you'd like."

Huffing in personal disgust, Alaan joined his daughter on the holopad, leaving Halid alone once again.

Groaning he turned back around and joined with the other three. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He only looked at the Germans for a moment before he focused on his omni-tool.

"I should like you all to meet our newest and youngest Admiral on our board, Hanala'Jarva," he informed the staring Germans looking at the young woman, purposefully addressing her by name only. "She is the daughter of Alaan'Jarva and as such believes herself entitled to be here."

Alaan stared at Halid; Hanala remained still, smirking slightly as Halid sent his request for a summons to Louis Ferdinand.

 _"It's a pleasure, Admiral Jarva,"_ Manstein was the first to greet the newcomer. _"If you are as smart as your Father, you will support whatever I am suggesting."_

The gathering chuckled at Manstein blatant display of consolidating a newcomer into his sphere of interests. Hanala merely smiled slightly. Gone was her vicious contempt for Zorah. She was already trying to win the Germans over to her. It was clear to him that he Admiralty Board should have forced Galina'Jarva to have that abortion, as per standard practice for illegal births.

The holographic communication device hummed as a new figure joined the gathering. It was Louis Ferdinand. He did not appear confused as to why he was so randomly called by Zorah. It was clear that Hanala and the Prince had been plotting more than on one occasion. Halid clear his throat. He had no time for games.

"Your Majesty, may I ask you if there has been some sort of issue between the two of us?" Halid inquired, his voice remaining as civil as he could hold it. "Have I not been a fair and open representation to you? My service has always been in the best interest of your country. I realize that I may be distracted with this war, but Germany as a whole does hold my attention."

Louis glanced to Hanala, who smiled slightly and inclined her head. It was a clear sign of reassurance that the Jarva bitch would make sure that she had his back against any possible flaring of anger.

 _"Admiral Zorah, you have worked hard to restore some dignity to the country, but I fear that in your rightful focus on cleaning Germany, you have forgotten that the people must have a voice in all matters pertaining to them, something I fear will not happen should this course of rampant militarism remain unguarded against,"_ the Prince spoke to the Admiral respectfully. _"I hold you with great esteem, but in the end you are a man who needs his attention focused on the Wehrmacht for your own long term goals."_

Halid remained perfectly silent, his eyes veering off to look at Hanala. She appeared bothered, but only mildly so. It appeared that the Prince was veering off the agreed upon response to Halid. It appeared she wanted to keep the break up neutral so that it did not scare off the Wehrmacht…

Clever little bitch…

 _"Since I can respect your position, I was hoping to help alleviate your workload, which I why I sent word to meet with Admiral Hanala'Jarva here,"_ Louis pressed on, gesturing to the young woman before him. _"I feel that with her dedication focused on the fleet and her people, as well as a firm belief in a genuine friendship between our people's she would serve as a fine replacement to you."_

Hanala turned to face Halid. She was smiling politely at Halid, but her posture screamed that she wanted nothing better than to slit his throat at the first chance she got. Halid held his stare at Hanala for a moment before turning back to the Prince, producing a friendly smile as well.

"With your permission, sir, might I suggest to you Admiral Habva'Vaerhit instead then?" he suggested in a soft tone, knowing that while he lost the support of the Prince, was aware he could soften the blow by choosing the bastard he knew to replace him. "He is just as focused on the civilians of my people as much as Hanala…More so, he is the longest serving Admiral and has more experience you can draw from. He has just as many problems against the rampant militarism you fear and as head of the civilian fleet, holds most sway over the common people of the Fleet."

Next to him a small laugh escaped Hanala.

"You can save your breath, Admiral Zorah," Hanala spoke brightly, a huge, murderous smile on her face for Zorah. "I have already been in contact with Admiral Vaerhit. He is firmly supporting my new position. I believe his exact words were _'I don't like you, Jarva, but I don't like that spy Halid'Zorah even more.'_ Sound familiar?"

Halid continued to stare at the smiling young woman. Yes… that certainly did sound like Habva'Vaerhit alright. Exhaling, he turned back to face the holographic Louis Ferdinand whose, hands were wrapped tightly in front of him. There was no other option left for him to take at the moment. Perhaps something would arise in the future, but for now Hanala'Jarva had effectively outmanoeuvred him.

Although Hanala might have been gleefully smug about what went down, at least Louis Ferdinand had the respect to remain somewhat solemn.

 _"Admiral, thank you again for your service,"_ Louis spoke formally to the group. _"I solemnly swear that I will do as you asked. I shall be the voice of the people. I will do so with all my efforts. They deserve as much. Hanala'Jarva, I shall be in contact with you soon; the best of luck to you to your endeavours."_

Next to him, Hanala cleared her throat, catching Louis Ferdinand's attention once again. Hanala slightly bowed her head in a display of respect to her new partner and the only reason she would now have a chance to sit on this council.

"Thank you for this chance, Your Majesty," she spoke softly. "You will not regret this."

Smiling to her, Louis Ferdinand nodded and cut his connection to the group, leaving the Germans in stunned silence, Hanala smug in her victory over Halid, Alaan looking both furious with Halid and extremely proud of his child and Halid livid with the woman standing next to him.

Hanala turned around, the smile on her expression replaced with an expression of self-righteous disgust with him. Her lips curled up, revealing a row of her sharp teeth.

"You… on the other hand, Halid'Zorah, will…" she growled out her assurance to him. "I will make sure of it."

With that aid, Hanala stepped off the holopad and left the communication centre and the council gathering in a state of silence. Pushing his hand into his hair, Halid turned back and found Alaan standing there only centimetres away from the Admiral. The military man's eyes were narrowed dangerously at the former spy.

"Erich, I was wondering if you could confirm that you went to Joachim Hoch shortly before Hitler's abduction," Alaan spoke to the hologram of Erich von Manstein. "Halid, I think it would be wise if you left the rest of the meeting to me. Go home."

Halid did not move for a good long moment. Never before had he been ordered to leave. Not when it had been him who had single-handedly organized much of this group. As much as he wanted to stay and tell Alaan what he thought of his daughter and her actions today, Halid narrowed his eyes and moved to leave. He was beaten today… He would come back and contain the situation at the next gathering.

 _"My God…"_ Halid heard Wilhelm Bittrich whisper to Paul Hausser as he left. _"Are all these meetings usually this dramatic?"_

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

 _Organizing assassination operations, working with flat out war criminals, and then releasing them with little in the way of monitoring, permitting the killing of women and children for vague chances…_

How in the hell had he not been paying attention to all of the extremely dirty and underhanded moves made in order to secure the Germans as their human assets for a battle fifty or sixty years away from now?

Alaan'Jarva slammed down his emptied glass and went to pour himself another one. It took hours, but Alaan had finally managed to make the Germans tell every dirty little act that they saw Halid commit in their interest and his own. It was now little wonder why his daughter held so much disgusted hatred for the spy. He and his first wife had presented the radical rethinking of uplifting a race, but in the act of completing this task for her, Halid'Zorah was breaking every moral code he swore to abide to when he took up his Admiralty commission. It was one thing to kill in the name of summary execution when the evidence was so stacked against the victim; it was quite another thing to murder men on behalf of other men.

Take Fritz Sauckel, for instance. He had been murdered on Halid's order at the behest of Albert Speer. The same Speer, who was likely as guilty of the slave labour procurement as Sauckel had been. But because Speer was significantly cleverer than Sauckel, and infinitely more useful, the assassination went off without as much as anyone questioning it.

And then there was Joachim Hoch.

It was becoming more and more clear that his murder campaign was being led along by Halid'Zorah. It was not much of a stretch to assume that Halid had a list of men and would feed the information to Hoch through a third party. Using Hoch's anger and hatred, he found himself the perfect and justifiable executioner of the men who would sully the image of Germany once the war ended and the truth came out about what crimes were committed by the party. Killing men like Oswald Pohl before they were permitted to testify before the world of all their most heinous crimes would take the human element out of it. It would just all be more paper evidence of man long since dead.

This was so wrong, so terribly wrong. It would be up to Alaan to rectify the mistakes. The first order of business would be to call for the resignation of Halid'Zorah from his offices.

The sliding of his door brought Alaan out of his alcohol induced brooding. Entering the room was his daughter; an odd smile was on her mouth. She was still high from her victory over Zorah. It was a victory that Hanala had been looking for, for some time now…. most likely since she had trusted Zorah enough to keep tabs on Joachim. Now the tables had been turned, Hanala had taken one of the most vital assets Zorah had.

"You wanted to see me, Father?" she inquired as she stood before him, watching Alaan as he slid his glass away from him.

Alaan leaned back into his seat. He looked up, finally able to meet his daughter in her eyes. He was unbelievably proud of her at this moment. She had the moral fortitude that he no longer possessed. She saw the potential for misuse of power and was not about to shy away from doing something, anything about it. Halid was would be an intelligence agent of great talent and the possessed the most talented tongue he had ever seen in his life. He had the ability to get everything and anything done if left to his own devices. But when overused he was capable of great horrendous acts in the name of furthering the cause. It was simply the ways of a spy. The ends always justified the means.

But that had to stop now. Halid was going to be restrained by any means possible.

"I wanted to apologize for treating you like a child," the Father spoke to his daughter softly. "Despite your tone and language, you brought up several good points about my blind faith in him to get things done. I will be informing Falan about this, Zorah will not be able to slip out of this one."

Hanala did not reply to his threat against Zorah right away. She turned her attention to pulling tie out of her hair and kicking off the height enhancing boots she wore. Sighing in relief as she shrunk back down by three or so inches, Hanala took off her jacket, leaving her in a white blouse. She turned back to her Father. She did not seem happy.

"Please… don't destroy him Father," she requested finally. "As nice as it may be, he's still useful."

Alaan tilted his head as Hanala turned away once again, walking over to the portside observation window overlooking Luna. Not two hours ago had Hanala appeared moments away from challenging the fellow Admiral to a fight. Now here she stood, denying the one thing that would satisfy her anger against Halid'Zorah.

"Halid'Zorah is one of those _necessary evils_ I keep hearing about," she sighed, her back still turned, her hand buried into her pockets. "I mean, I understand why he does what he does. I do not always agree with it, but I understand his reasons. I just feel that he needs to be watched closer by you and Falan. He needs you both breathing down his neck so that he doesn't act with impunity anymore. His actions must be agreed upon first."

Alaan could not help himself; he smiled slightly at the statement she made. He stood from his seat and followed Hanala's path, joining her by the observation port, his hand wrapping around her shoulder. She smiled slightly before turning back to her pensive expression, her head leaning over to him and resting on his bicep.

"You are right, Hanala. It would be better he stay at our side for the time being… which is why I want you to join in on all other meetings on an official capacity. Not just as a voice to the future Kaiser, but as a policy maker, as an equal voice. After today, I think you are ready," Alaan admitted to his child, who glanced up at him curiously.

"I still have my doubts," he amended swiftly. "But only in the way of a Father looking out for his child. The Admiral side would be more than proud to have you out there; because I know that being your Father will not ever influence your opinions."

Hanala remained silent. She stared up in to her Father's eyes curiously, as though she doubted what he was saying to her. He could blame her being distrustful, but it was no deception. Tomorrow he would go to Vaerhit and Falan and stand with him to give her a position beyond a technical one.

"You will not regret this…" Hanala finally assured her Father as she did for Louis Ferdinand. She paused, however, and smiled ruefully as she added, "Although to be fair, you might regret it…"

She smiled awfully at him. Alaan huffed and bumped hard against the girl, making her stumble in place.

"I probably will," he agreed with her, his voice faking a strained tone. "You have your Mother's stubbornness in you as well as Hoch's ability to stand ground. It's a dangerous combination."

Alaan watched as Hanala's expression lit up briefly at the mention of Joachim Hoch. It was a far cry from the miserable expression she usually had whenever Joachim was mentioned. Alaan turned slightly and touched Hanala's chin. He could not help but smile slightly. He might have had his problems with Hoch, but to see her smile…

"You went to Joachim, didn't you?" he inquired coyly. "Even after I suggested you should wait. You look a little… _positive_."

Hanala's small smile widened slightly as she nodded causally.

"I did see him… we sorted out some big things, not everything, but it was enough progress for us both," Hanala addressed the matter. She glanced to her Father, noticing he seemed somewhat worried, she added. "Do not worry, I drew a line and made him understand that Saleb was not safe around him until he got help… but he seemed to take that well. Once things settle down a bit, I'm going to do whatever is possible to get him the help he needs."

Hanala turned away, her chin lowering slightly as she held her eyes on the moon in the observation port. Halid remained silent. He would not address his concerns about Zorah guiding Joachim down the path of personal assassin just yet. For now he would gather more evidence before he told Hanala his concerns.

"That's if he survives the war, of course," he instead said to Hanala, making her turn to him. "I've gotten no word of him leading the attack on the Ruhr."

Looking at her Father carefully for a moment, Hanala turned away, her arm wrapping around his waist.

"He will survive," Hanala replied confidently, her tone light and causal. "I think he considers dying to be a good break for him and me… it ends everything for him and keeps Saleb and me safe from potential retaliation. But fortunately for me, Joachim rarely gets a good break, so he'll be still standing when everything settles..."

Hanala trailed off for a moment, she shook her head and huffed rather undignified.

"I mean he better survive," she added, her tone tougher. "He knows better than to give me a reason to be mad at him."

Alaan squinted at the girl and turned away. As much as he didn't like Joachim, he could not help but feel sorry for him for ending up as a source of affection for the apparent clone of his wife.

He could think of no worse a fate then that.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up and melodrama removal.**

 **we are almost at the halfway point.**


	11. The Ruhr River Valley Offensive Part 2

**Chapter Eleven:** **The Ruhr River Valley Offensive - Part Two**

 **…**

This was beyond hell.

Pulling his binoculars from his eyes, the newly appointed commandant of the 233rd Reserve Panzer Division, Generalmajor Karl-Wilhelm von Schlieben looked out on the sheer devastation of the sector with shock and disbelief. Just about every inch of the planet was scarred in a way not seen since his service in the first war. Just about everything had been set on fire, or was now just burning out Heavy smoke filled the air and nearly made him choke. This was a far cry from the other sectors, which had seen very little in the way of devastation that this place saw.

Whichever rebel who was in control of the rebel controlled area in this sector had loved his fire and artillery. He was destroying for the sake of destroying. Then again, such behaviour was expected out of chaotic traitors. They had no regard for the war effort, no regard their country and no regard for what was at stake. Germany had to be united under the government it had, not under the government of their dreams. This war was only furthering the weakening of the German position of dominance in the war.

As much as he hated the rebels, he cared for the safety of his men. The National Socialists had worked out a deal with the rebels. They would work together to defend the region from the Allies. It was a reasonable compromise between the two warring party. Both sides recognized the threat of the British and the Americans, and both sides had agreed to forget their differences when it came to the defence of the Ruhr.

What both sides could not seem to agree on was how to end the battle between the two panzer divisions warring against each other out in the valley. Ultimately it was decided that the fighting outside of the city could continue on until one side was forced into a retreat, killing as many men on both sides as possible.

Karl-Wilhelm was not comfortable with that apathy shown on both sides, which was why he sent an envoy to the rebel commandant for a meeting on contested ground, thus why they met here in the middle of the no man's land. In the distance he could see the enemy approach his position, a Panzer IV, a Hanomag and a staff car came to a halt. The infantry and officers climbed out of the Hanomag and staff car as the panzer's 75 millimetre main gun turned and focused in on the Generalmajor.

Footsteps behind him made the Generalmajor turn. It was his commandant facing the enemy in the region, an SS-Obersturmbannführer named Manfred Kruspe joined the Generalmajor standing on the ridge line, his hands behind his back as he looked down at the encroaching rebels. Their infantry halted halfway to them, just as the infantry belonging to Kruspe did the same. The only two who continued on were the officers.

"Everyone is in place, Herr Generalmajor," Kruspe spoke up, his hands wrapping behind his back. "If I may speak plainly, I hope you know what you are doing. The rebels are not to be trusted."

The Generalmajor shot the Obersturmbannführer a sharp look. He was in no mood to listen to the SS man making sure that he remained loyal. He already had his reasons to stay loyal to the State.

"Mind your tongue, Obersturmbannführer," Karl-Wilhelm warned Manfred, his voice low and dangerous. "They were my colleagues once. They will see reason if they are smart."

Thankfully in a display of just enough intelligence to not push the subject with the Generalmajor, Kruspe remained silent. Instead of pushing the subject, he held his eyes on the two rebels', now only metres away. There was a sharp contrast in their demeanours. The rebel Generalmajor was smiling, his Oberst at his side looked thoroughly disgusted at the thought of conversing with the Loyalists.

The two men stopped, only a metre away from Von Schlieben and Kruspe. Both groups simply stood there for a good long moment staring at each other. The two Generalmajor's exchanged salutes. Looking from the short Generalmajor, to the tall Oberst, Schlieben paused as he noticed two things: How exceptionally young the Oberst was, and the fact that he was already a Knight's Cross holder with two additional details to the medal.

"Generalmajor Von Schlieben. I see you brought a friend," the opposing Generalmajor started, speaking politely to the loyalist. Karl-Wilhelm frowned as he recognized the man. He had been the personal student of Heinz Guderian. It was only natural that in his teacher's betrayal, the student would follow.

"Generalmajor Hasso von Manteuffel," Karl greeted the disgraced, but fellow Prussian with all the respect he could summon. "I see that you have brought one as well… it might have been wise to choose someone more your height."

Unbothered by the comment, Manteuffel, who was lucky to be 5'3, cracked a mild grin as he reached up and slapped his huge, dangerous looking Oberst on his shoulder. The Oberst did not move at Manteuffel's attempt to make him move. No, instead the Oberst was glaring with an intense anger for the grey uniformed Obersturmbannführer standing next to the Schlieben.

"Hello, Manfred," the Oberst spoke up. "It's been quite some time."

Karl narrowed his eyes at the remark. He looked to Kruspe. His expression was an awful smile.

"Yes it has, Joachim Hoch. Christ, you look worse for wear," Kruspe retorted, his voice thick with sarcasm that barely contained his rage. "Of all the potential traitors in the SS, I never thought it would have been you."

Schlieben turned back, his eyes widened as the name Joachim Hoch clicked into his head. He was the man who had apparently assassinated the Führer! The Great Betrayer was standing here and worse still, he looked utterly unbothered by his crime! Although Von Schlieben wasn't an admirer of Hitler, he respected him for the great length he went to bring back the Fatherland's pride. To have this man here gun him down and start a war in the Reich… it was disgusting.

"I already met up with one of the old gang… Ernest Uhlmann," Hoch informed his former friend, his tone remaining a low rumble. "He got himself blown up during one of your terrorist attacks in the south… I put him out of his misery."

The former Waffen-SS officer turned Wehrmacht Oberst took a step forward, but was stopped from moving any closer by Manteuffel.

"Ask yourself this one, Robert," Hoch once again directed at the seething Obersturmbannführer. "If I killed him, even though I considered Uhlmann as one of my best friends, and you were barely more than an acquaintance to me, what in the hell do you think I will do to you when I find you out there on this battlefield?"

Next to him, Schlieben watched as Kruspe's expression contorted into a look of utter livid rage at the revelation that Hoch had murdered a mutual friend, worse still, he looked utterly unbothered by admitting that he killed a wounded man. It was as though he was trying to provoke the hot-blooded Manfred into attacking him. It was a fight Schlieben doubted very much Kruspe could win.

Coming to his senses, Kruspe backed off, his rage turning into a mocking laugh directed right to Hoch. Schlieben and Manteuffel shared a confused look. The negotiation was swallowed up by the personal feud between the former and current SS men.

"So that's it then, you're killing your own friends and Kameraden; you're killing the men who consider you to be brothers," the Obersturmbannführer pressed onwards. "You betrayed us for men like Manteuffel? Men who would use you and throw you away the moment you're no longer worth a damn!"

The only thing keeping Hoch from exploding was Manteuffel. He turned his back to Schlieben and Kruspe and placed himself right in front of Hoch.

 _"Hoch, this puke does not speak for me or any of the men you now work with,"_ Manteuffel spoke up over the ranting SS man to his subordinate softly, like a brother calming down his sibling. _"You have time and time again proven yourself to us over this war. You are one of us. "_

Turning away from his tormentor, breathing heavily, Hoch looked down to Manteuffel and slowly he nodded.

 _"I know, Herr Generalmajor,"_ Hoch finally agreed, his voice still edged. " _Sometimes people forget that the past is best left in the past."_

Satisfied his Oberst wasn't going to murder everyone on the opposite side of the truce, Manteuffel turned back to Schlieben.

"So why did you send the messenger to me?" he demanded from Von Schlieben "Is this the discussion of terms for your surrender?"

Karl glared at Hasso.

"Not in the slightest. In case you have not noticed, the Americans and the British are pushing in the valley with their bombers. The leadership of the Government as well as your... faction has agreed that a ceasefire in the cities of Essen, Dortmund, Duisburg and Bochum. Fighting will end there effective three hours from now. There was no agreement made over the status of our engagement. I suppose they informally decided we would fight each other until one side is victorious."

He paused as he noticed Manteuffel looked unmoved by his words.

"There is a ways around this," Schlieben continued. "If we both withdraw from this sector and leave each other in peace."

Manteuffel furrowed his brow.

"Withdrawal on our part is not an option. You are in no position to demand me to back off, Schlieben and you know it," Manteuffel snapped, almost furious at the suggestion of a ceasefire on his part. "Gerd von Rundstedt is furious that the battles for the Ruhr cities are ending. One word to him and I will have six additional divisions sent to aid the battle. If you weren't in disarray now, then you will be the moment Von Rundstedt arrives. You will not survive this fight if he shows up, I can assure you that."

Manteuffel glanced back to the Oberst and then once again focused on his fellow Generalmajor. Overhead their heads was the droning of airplanes several kilometres. The constant reminder that the Americans and the British were out there trying to kill them even as the war between the two factions waged on.

"The only way this will work is if you stand down and face a tribunal of your fellow officers to figure out the extent of your support to the National Socialists This will clear your conscious," Manteuffel suggested to the fellow Prussian. "Your men will be spared further death and carnage. They will fight for us with a clear name and for a better Germany. The Party can only provide you with further dishonour to your name."

The suggestion would have been laughable to Karl-Wilhelm had the situation for his Division not been spelt out so dire. _A tribunal… Service in the name of the traitors?_ How dare they make such a ludicrous offer to him, and why in the hell was Manteuffel consulting with Hoch like he was an equal?!

"There is another option," Hoch spoke up as Manteuffel allowed him to address Schlieben. "I think it will satisfy just about all our issues at hand."

Von Schlieben narrowed his eyes at Hoch.

"Leave behind the SS units you incorporated into your unit and take your Division any other direction then here. They will die by covering your withdrawal from the area - payment in full to you and to your men who have died for their cause for the past several months," Hoch stated, his mouth smirking as he stared at his former party comrade. "You are facing an inevitably you cannot possibly fathom, Generalmajor. Serious resistance is pointless. This option will let you keep your struggle and give you time to think on my warning."

Hasso von Manteuffel appeared pleased by the suggestion; Kruspe looked as though he wanted nothing better than to launch himself at the Hoch for suggesting that the Wehrmacht ought to abandon him and his men to their deaths at the hands of Hoch. Karl-Wilhelm stepped forward and looked Hoch dead in the eyes.

"In case you have forgotten, boy, I serve the government and the interests of the State, Manteuffel and you are nothing more than rebels tearing the country apart when unity is needed the most," He berated the Oberst. He turned his head and looked down on Manteuffel. "Your struggle has been admirable, and perhaps you harbour a genuine concern. But in the end you must cease this struggle for the good of our real war effort."

Manteuffel stepped forward, his hand wrapped around Schlieben's forearm. His eyes were strangely pleading to Schlieben to see his position.

"Do you not understand? You and your men are disposable in the grand scheme of things," Manteuffel stated to his former kameraden. "The Wehrmacht will inevitably be withdrawn from service if the Party has their way. The Wehrmacht was always considered too huge a threat not to have complete power over-"

 _ **"OF COURSE THE PARTY WOULD WANT THAT,"**_ Schlieben screamed at Manteuffel. _**"YOUR GODDAMN REBELLION ALL BUT ASSURED THAT!"**_

The anger made Manteuffel's eyes widen. He did however manage to keep his own temper from exploding. Pulling his hand off Schlieben's forearm, he gestured to the Obersturmbannführer, whose arms were crossed as he stared down at Manteuffel.

"Look at that man," he said, waiting for Schlieben to look back at Kruspe. "The future of the German armed forces lays in the likes of him. Loyal only to the party, they move amongst the Wehrmacht loyalists, learning your skills, building their ability until one day the party commits a purge on the scale of Stalin. Our rebellion or not, a Wehrmacht loyal to country before Party is a threat to the Party."

Kruspe flat out laughed at Manteuffel. To him this was farcical.

"What a pile of shit," Obersturmbannführer Kruspe taunted Manteuffel. He looked at Schlieben. "You mustn't listen to this fool. He makes assumptions. The Wehrmacht will always have a place in Germany. The Party is well aware that this is just a small group of agitators and not the whole of the Wehrmacht. Saying otherwise shows the sort of desperate liars the rebels ar-."

"Manteuffel knows these things, because I told him. I am better aware of the future goals of the Waffen-SS then this desk riding coward," Hoch cut of Kruspe, glaring at his former classmate menacingly before look at Schlieben again. "Why else do you think that the SS-VT was formed? The Reichswehr was unreliable, the Wehrmacht, while filled with National Socialists, was still primarily aligned with the Prussian old guard. The one constant in the evolution of the Waffen-SS was what my mentor taught me. It was the four steps: Emulate the Wehrmacht, overshadow the Wehrmacht, overtake the Wehrmacht, and then swallow the Wehrmacht into the Waffen-SS military apparatus."

He wasn't sure why, but Hoch's words chilled Schlieben to the bone, even if he had no intentions of ever admitting such a thing. Perhaps it was the content; perhaps it was the sincerity in Hoch's theory. By all accounts Hoch was extremely diehard in his service to the SS until sometime last year. His record spoke for itself: The man was a fanatic National Socialist: Something huge had to have happened to make him want to end that relationship.

"It's not too late to end this, Karl," Manteuffel spoke from behind him. "End this fight and join us. No one else has to die. Not now, not here."

Schlieben did not reply. His head was down low. Manteuffel and Hoch remained silent, allowing him to think about everything. After a moment, Von Schlieben looked up to Manteuffel.

"My wife and families of loyalist Generals were relocated to Berlin… for their protection from you rebels according to Himmler," Karl-Wilhelm final spoke as he looked back up to the panzer general. "So I serve the state for her, Hasso. I'm not about to risk her life for something that may be right."

Manteuffel remained motionless. He looked at Karl sympathetically before he turned to Hoch and dismissed him. Staring at his former classmate, Hoch nodded and left down the side of the hill, leaving Manteuffel alone with Schlieben and his SS liaison.

"Then this fight continues in thirty minutes," Manteuffel returned, his voice somewhat strained. "Farewell, kameraden."

Exchanging salutes once again, Manteuffel left as well, joining Hoch on their way back to their guard detail. They unknowingly left Schlieben stewing in his decision to stand with the National Socialists.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

He wasn't sure why he was here, but he was.

Perhaps it was an intense personal guilt that the negotiation failed that had led him out of his command half-track, through a deserted battlefield and to the 7th Panzer Division's aid station; it was the waypoint between the battlefield and the hospital. It was where the wounded were likely flooding in from the looks of it.

He really did have nothing to do. In an effort to give his subordinates, Von Stauffenberg and Peiper something to stroke their own egos, and in turn would be more inclined to following his orders in the future, Hoch decided to hand the reigns of the Regiment over to them for the time being. He had been leading them now for three weeks straight, through stalemate, through breakthrough, through retreat and then a repeat in the pattern more times than he cared to admit. If his former classmate Kruspe had been the one in command of the enemy forces in the sector, then he should have executed him on the spot. Perhaps it would spare more at least another week of combat before Gerd von Rundstedt sent his reinforcements to break the Loyalists here.

Sitting there in his Hanomag, his Regiment locked in combat, unable to get through to Hanala had left him feeling like he had absolutely nothing to do.

That was why he was here, now entering the aid station. The guards at the front door shot up in attention, and Joachim acknowledge it with a salute. Ignoring a heavy set older woman, who looked grim faced at him. Like he was the reason all of this had happened. He looked past her and stared briefly at the source of the moaning that was overwhelming his hearing.

What a waste of youth…

"Herr Hoch?"

His musings were interrupted by one of the orderlies. He examined her closer as she nervously approached him, her hands and arms stained with blood. Realizing who it was Hoch snorted and looked at the nurse. He handed her his jacket and cap. The heavyset nurse did not look impressed by the slight impression that she was his maid. Hoch could not have cared less as he turned back to the woman who had called his name.

"And I suppose your beau has sent you here for safety?" he asked her.

Shuffling in place, the Ukrainian collaborator Tatiyana Andrusiv smiled nervously for him as he approached where she stood. She shook her head. For a seconds and only a second it reminded Joachim of Hanala's sheer defiance.

"No… H-Herr Hoch, Christian wanted me to stay in the base camp," Tatiyana admitted shyly as Hoch stopped within inches from her. "I could not do that, not when I've treated wounded men before in Russia. I'm better at helping people then I am killing them."

Joachim nodded, accepting her explanation. Perhaps there was more about the woman then he cared to have admitted. He would drop his less than kind tone with her considering that she had volunteered to help save the men fighting in a country that was not her own. Hoch looked past her and at the dozens of wounded already indoors, and the mad dash by the medical personnel to help save them.

"Well… do you need assistance?" Joachim inquired sincerely, prying his eyes away from the horrifying sight. "My subordinates have everything under control. I need to do something. I know how to dress wounds and organize. I can hold down the wounded if need be. Just show me what to do and I'll do it."

Tatiyana stared at him. She did not appear to believe what he was saying. There was nothing but an intense desire to do something, anything for the wounded. He could not just go back to his command Hanomag and do absolutely nothing from there. He watched her bit her lip, slowly Tatiyana nodded.

"Of course t-that would be appreciated," she said. "How… how about I show you around and get you started."

Hoch nodded in concurrence, and with that, he followed his new supervisor.

And that was what he did for what felt like hours. Together the two of them worked as a team on the incoming wounded: dressing wounds, restraining patients, discharging whoever Hoch could see was not seriously wounded. Occasionally he ran into some of his men, who were in utter shock to find their Commandant hands deep in their wounds. He would try to take their minds off of it with praises and making humorous remarks about the son of a bitch Manfred Kruspe. Making assurances that he would kill the man in the most painful and disgusting ways he could.

It was strange how that worked: threatening grievous, brutal punishment to a man on the other side of the firing line always seemed to cheer up the boys. Perhaps it reminded them that the enemy was flesh and blood as well.

Other times, he was not so lucky to have an aware and alert patient. Other times the wounded came in and they were either thankfully unawake, or worse, awake and aware that they were dying and there was nothing that Tatiyana and Joachim could do other then hold his hand, offer him a cigarette and allow death to take them. Almost immediately after they expired, the two of them were back off to the next patient.

It was so impersonal… _Christ_ … It was like an assembly line. Joachim could not have ever imagined doing this sort of thing as a profession. He was good at dealing death, but never did he pause long enough to pay attention to the dead and wounded left in his wake.

"Herr Hoch," he heard Tatiyana call to him. "We need a hand!"

Pulling a morphine syringe from his recent patient –a gunshot injured NCO Joachim stood up from the bedside and helped the medical orderlies and Tatiyana to guide the new arrivals of wounded through the crowded triage centre. Laying down one of a man - wounded in the chest by shrapnel, he held pressure over his wound until a Tatiyana took his place, Joachim stepped back and watched Tatiyana whisper softly in Ukrainian to the man, soothing him as she tightly wrapped the wound up.

"Herr Oberst we're having a problem over here!"

Tatiyana and Joachim looked at the call. It was the heavy set nurse at the door. She looked utterly distressed as she pushed herself in between the wounded laying on the floor and makeshift beds. She looked exhausted as she approached Joachim, and forgetting who he was, she grabbed him by the arm and tried to lead him through the seas of the wounded. Hoch however forced himself to stay in place near Tatiyana.

"Calm down and tell me here!" he exclaimed at the woman.

"Doctor Hundt is having some sort of break down. He is new to this," she shouted to Hoch over the moans of the wounded. "I… I've tried to get him back in here, but he has been working for the past twelve hours. I need you to talk some sense into him. Now is not the time to stop."

A doctor was having a breakdown? Great, that was just fucking great to hear.

Suppressing his rage, Hoch nodded to the nurse. The nurse revealed she was carrying his jacket and cap. Her reasoning must have been that wearing his full uniform might inspired this Hundt to get up and do something. Staring at them, Hoch slowly nodded and took them both.

"Of course, Frau Nurse, I shall see what I can do," Hoch replied as he pulled on his jacket. Glancing to Tatiyana, he added. "Tatiyana, come with me. Maybe a pretty face will calm the doctor down."

Confused by the order, the Ukrainian looked over to the plump nurse for guidance. The nurse nodded, as much as she needed extra hands helping her. It was clear what she vitally needed was people with the vital skills to help these men survive. Andrusiv removed her mask and followed Joachim through the blood stained floors and out of the makeshift aid station. As they pushed by the ambulances and men carrying their friends to the station, Joachim brushed his hand through his hair, forgetting the blood coating his hand.

He did not know what in the hell to do with this Hundt character. All he knew for certain was that he could not pull his pistol out and threaten to shoot him unless he went back to work. He had to use his words.

Moaning inwardly, he looked to Tatiyana, who was keeping up with his long strides. She was using a cloth to ash the blood streaks off her face. She caught his eye and offered the cloth to her. Nodding, he took it from her wiped his forehead and hands the best that he could. He would need to use water to really get the deep, murky blood out of his skin.

Without warning, Tatiyana's hand grabbed Joachim's sleeve. Silently, she gestured far off to their right. There was a man kneeling on the ground about a hundred metres out next to a burnt out Kettenkrad ammunition carrier. The two of them paused where they stood. Both of them assumed that it was the doctor, judging by how he was vomiting.

"How should we approach this?" Joachim inquired finally, withdrawing his cigarettes. He paused before he put them away, and decided to offer one to Tatyana. She looked at the cigarettes in the case and then took one, allowing Hoch to light her up.

"You take the lead," Tatiyana suggested, inhaling the cigarette. "You're the Oberst Knight's Cross earner. Does that not make you a professional motivator now?"

Exhaling his smoke and deciding not to call Tatiyana a smart mouthed bint, Joachim turned back and pushed himself forward, the woman only two steps behind him as they made their way down to the Kettenkrad and the sobbing man next to it. He was near hysterical.

"Doctor Hundt," Joachim called out to the man "I take it you have not done this before?"

Apparently hearing his name, Hundt looked up from his pile of vomit wearily to Joachim and Tatiyana standing high over him. Slowly he shook his head. He sat up, sitting flat in the grass. Joachim stepped off the last step and wandered down the hill to join the sick physician, who was drying his eyes.

"I-I got picked up in Regensburg. I am a Paediatrician," Hundt admitted to Joachim wearily. He looked up to the Oberst, adding. "I've…I've treated wounded soldiers before, volunteered some of my time, but it was always behind the lines… countries away behind the lines, and it was always orderly and sterile. I have not done this only few hundred metres from the front line. I -I…"

The doctor trailed off once again. He shook his head. He looked utterly exhausted. Under any other circumstance he would let the doctor go and get some rest and unwind, but now was simply not a good time. Not when more and more of the wounded were coming in. Not when it was his boys who needed doctors like Hundt more than ever. He needed Hundt back up and ready to work until the battle was done.

Hoch closed the space between them, his hand reaching up to pull of his cap as he bent and lowered himself onto one knee, his other hand pressing against Hundt's shoulder. The doctor looked up to Joachim in confusion. He was caught off guard by the grim expression the Oberst was wearing. Ignoring the vomited, Tatiyana sat down on the other side of Hundt, her hand reaching out to touch against his back.

"I know… I know how much of a shock this is to you; it's not much different than that of a man's first hours in combat. You do not know how you're going to survive the first day, but at the end of the day you do make it," Joachim spoke up to the weary doctor.

"It's all just a matter of perseverance on your part. You're going to make it, Hundt," the Oberst added. "All you need to do is focus only what is in front of you, and what your supervisor says. Nothing else is important."

Joachim fell silent to allow the Doctor a moment to digest what he was hearing. That moment was spent figuring out the best possible approach Joachim could take on the next matter he needed to address. The Doctor was young, a little older than Hoch was. Still, it was young to be a physician, just as it was young for Joachim to be an Oberst, or more dramatically, for Hanala to be an Admiral. He did not seem to know how to work a triage and if he did, the doctor wasn't will to do it from the looks of it.

Looking to Tatiyana for a moment, he exhaled his cigarette smoke built up in his lungs and waiting for the Doctor to look back up to him. Eventually Hundt did.

"I do not ask this lightly, those are my men in there and it is my obligation to safeguard their survival no matter what it takes," he informed Hundt softly. "But unfortunately I have to ask you something that you might not understand until it's over. Will you listen?"

Hundt nodded. Joachim turned away and inhaled his cigarette as he slowly exhaled the smoke again and turned back to Hundt.

"Hundt, I do not want any resources at all wasted on the mortally wounded men," Hoch said, hating saying it out loud to the physician. "Allow them to expire if you know they stand no chance at survival, but whatever the case, not one of the mortally wounded should receive more than a final drink, cigarette or final communion. I want men with flesh wounds back on their feet and back in service within an hour of being brought to you. Do not be prone to babying them. Send them back out to fight. Committing to this hard line will ease your patient load."

Gaping in horror of what Joachim was suggesting, it was enough to finally motivate the weary doctor back to his feet. He looked at Joachim, and then to Tatiyana, who nodded in concurrence with Joachim, with a mixture of shock and disgust for suggesting the common sense solution that his fellow physicians were doing. He was close to a complete breakdown. It would be tricky to get him back to a working state.

"You're asking me to mistreat my patients…" Hundt replied, his voice rising, clearly alarmed by what Hoch was saying. "You want me to send out the wounded to fight, you want to let the seriously wounded die… You cannot be serious. That might fly for the old war doctors, but not for me!"

Before he could overwhelm himself with a rant, Tatiyana reached out and shook him, forcing his attention onto her.

"No, that is not Hoch saying that," Tatiyana interjected finally. "He's saying you need to be smart with how you treat the wounded. You have to see reality. People will die in there and there is nothing you can do about it!"

Smiling slightly, grateful she said it, Hoch turned back to Hundt.

"She's right, these are exceptional circumstances," Joachim replied to the man, whose head was now buried into his hands. "You have to steel yourself in a way you have never done so before. You have to think of those boys as damaged equipment. Go in there like a mechanic, move from patient to patient and see who you can salvage and who you cannot. Today you have to become impersonal to save them. Burning yourself out over an inevitably dead man isn't going to do anyone a favour."

"That's cold…" the man murmured. "I cannot… I cannot be that cold."

Joachim nodded grimly.

"Yes it is, and under any other circumstances, I would be ringing your neck, demanding you save every possible life, and then beating you senseless for not doing a good enough job –no matter how many you save," Joachim replied, trying to make his voice humorous in order to put the panicking man at ease. "But that is no longer possible, Hundt. I'm asking you to be a realist. I'm asking you to sacrifice a man and use his resources to save two or three others. Think with your head, not your heart. Wasted effort is not a good show of your compassion. It's selfish and it's risks other lives."

Joachim's piece said, he went silent as he watched Tatiyana take Hundt's hand and smile up at him.

"I know what it is like to be in a scenario where things will not be right no matter what you choose to do," Tatiyana whispered softly to him. "All that you can do is to persevere and push through… so many lives depend on it, Doctor."

Tatiyana and Joachim remained silent and waited for what they said to course through his mind. Hoch knew from his own experiences that they were only potentially damaging him further by pushing him to do something he could not do. But this was different than his experiences. Hundt was being asked to save lives, Hoch was not.

"I… I understand," Hundt finally said. "I wish that I did not… but I get it."

Joachim inspected the doctor as Hundt stood from his seat and dried his eyes with his sleeve. Watching Hundt exhale unsteadily, Joachim and Tatiyana stood up; Hoch slapping the Doctor on his shoulder.

"You're a good man in a bad time, Hundt. These days assholes like me flourish… but that will not be forever," he assured the doctor. "Now come on, let's go back in there. I will be your assistant. I'll guide you with the morality. You just focus on applying your skill. Okay?"

Looking at the Oberst, Hundt wordlessly nodded. Together, Tatiyana and Joachim guided the wayward doctor back towards the aid station. They had many to save, and many to sacrifice.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It was night before the patient intake finally dipped. Tatiyana could not have been happier when she got a tap on the shoulder from the Head Nurse, Carol Schmidt and told Tatiyana to rest and take along Oberst Hoch with her.

As much work as she had to do, Hoch had easily double the load, and yet still he appeared energized. Foremost, he served as an assistant and guide to Hundt, helping the doctor through his first serious triage. When Hundt was feeling confident, he rushed off to help her whenever he could. He also took the time to send out his orders to his Regiment. At the end of the day it took all of her efforts to drag the man out of the aid station and back into the smoky, desolated countryside.

The night was somewhat chilly, and Hoch, in a strange display of civility to her, handed her his jacket and a lit cigarette to smoke. She took both gratefully, wrapping his large jacket around her. Her mind wandered off to Christian for several long, terse moments. Silently she hoped he was alright out there. Almost immediately, Tatiyana shut down her fear and turned, finding Hoch was already walking away. Not knowing anyone other than him, she slowly went to follow him as he held his head low so that he could light a cigarette of his own.

He looked back up as he took a drag and glanced back to her. She tried to smile, but she was simply too exhausted for pleasantries. Although, she had admit that she was happy for the most part, for the first time it appeared that she had finally shown Hoch that she was not a waste of space; that there was nothing all that offensive about her. She was even willing to admit that she had smelled and looked like a farm animal when they first met. So that probably didn't help her reputation with the once immaculate looking former Waffen-SS man.

But that was a long time ago. The Oberst, now as grimy and blood soaked as she was, and equally as scarred.

She had heard rumours about him. That he had been involved in the assassination plot against Adolf Hitler… that it got his family killed. She even heard that he had to kill his family in order to survive. It explained the sheer violence that Hoch inflicted on his former comrades.

She did not know what to think about the rumours, but there was one matter that made her concerned. It made her concerned because the alien that was helping his people rise above the Soviets and the west had been hurt all those months ago in Algeria and it was obvious that he loved her. Perhaps that was another reason to his anger.

"How is she doing?" she found herself inquiring.

Hoch turned back, his eyes narrowed at her. It was not a threatening expression. It was a curious examination. Hoch continued to examine her as though looking for a sign of treachery. Well there was none. Tatiyana was genuinely concerned. For the first time again, Hoch appeared to somewhat trust her. At least enough not to slap her across the mouth right away and tell her that under no circumstance was the alien on the table.

Emboldened by this, Tatiyana decided to press her luck… just a little bit though.

"The… the alien that you are seeing," she elaborated for Hoch's benefit. "She was wounded, right? Has she… has she recovered?"

Still staring at her inquisitively, his cigarette dangling from his mouth, Hoch pulled the cigarette out and exhaled slowly, his smoke combining with hers in between the two of them. At long last, Joachim turned away from her and continued to walk, Tatiyana close behind as they moved between the wreckage of a tank and a Panzerjäger.

"Yes, Hanala made it through," he admitted as they stepped in between the corpses of fallen loyalist troops. "She has recovered for the most part… well… as well as can be expected for someone who got strafed."

Wincing at the statement, and well aware of the mental trauma the wounded have long after their physical wounds have healed, Tatiyana nodded. Silently, she allowed Hoch take her by the hand as he helped her traverse through several deep impact craters. She did her best to ignore the charred bodies curled up in the pits.

"That is good to hear," Tatiyana said as she and Hoch got to the other side, letting go of his hand. "I did not know her well, but she seemed… nice... if somewhat uncomfortable to be around,"

Tatiyana tried not to lose her nerve as she noticed Hoch appear slightly displeased at the statement.

I am sorry," she amended carefully. "I am not use to this concept you know? Aliens traveling across the galaxy and making contact with Germany… us as species… it is all so strange. "

Strange was an understatement. No one who knew what was happening behind the scenes knew for sure what the purpose the quarians were guiding humanity for.

Tatiyana had a feeling however. It was all going to be revealed sooner rather than later. The quarians could not hide for long. Not in a middle of a war of this scale.

"I know how you feel, Andrusiv," Hoch spoke plainly as they moved through the fields of mud and broken steel. "But she is not completely foreign. She liked you as well. She even told me so. It would be nice if you survived all of this… I do not think she has all that many friends."

He fell silent as several Hanomags and a light tank rolled past the two of them. The two armoured half-tracks filled with infantry watched the Oberst and the woman they walked back towards the secured zones. The silence last for several minutes between the two of them. Hoch's head was bowed in a deep contemplation. Perhaps he was thinking about Hanala.

Tatiyana had to admit, it was rather sweet, if somewhat odd. She did not see the appeal in Hanala, but Hoch did, and that was all that mattered really. People would always have a problem with such things. It would be a series hurdle for the two of them to clear in the coming months and years, provided they stay together. It was likely already a problem for the aliens.

Perhaps she was at ease about this for a good reason. It wasn't exactly like she and Christian Bohr was a likely odd couple as well. Tatiyana, the Ukrainian collaborator, Christian, the German soldier… she loved him… she really did, but sometimes she found herself worrying what everyone she left behind in Ukraine would say if they knew. Germans were not exactly the same liberators as they were back in 1941.

Strange how these things happened.

As bad as what might have been had her friends known who she loved, she could only imagine how his family would react. A filthy quarter German in love with their big hero son… she had not been shy about suggesting that she would not be welcomed by his family to him. It was charge that Christian flat out denied and assured her that she would come first in the unlikely event that his family got upset. It was somewhat flattering for her. It had been sometime since she had a champion.

As they climbed the rolling hillside up to the base camp, the path smoothed out and blasting of artillery rounds being fired out towards the loyalist positions. German soldiers were bolting from position to position, delivering ammunition to the stationary guns. None of them paid attention to the Oberst and the volunteer moving in between tanks being repaired and prepared to join the offensive once again.

They came to a stop in front of Hoch's command vehicle. Hoch turned around once again to face her. Both hands were in his pocket as he looked at her carefully. He was debating on something.

"You did good work today, Andrusiv," Hoch finally spoke up, breaking the long silence. "You may not hear it from anyone else, but my men and I appreciate your efforts."

Tatiyana curled her mouth up into a strained smile.

" _We_ did good work, Herr Hoch," she amended for him. "I never thought I would see you try and preserve life…"

Hoch chuckled lowly, one hand reaching up to rub his forehead. He turned away and stepped up the steel grate and opened the door. Sighing Tatiyana looked away as she unbuttoned Joachim's jacket so that she could hand it back to him before she went to go to the tent Christian and her had in the camp. As she turned around, she found that Hoch was stepping off the grate and gestured to the command truck.

"You look exhausted," he pointed out the obvious. "Come on in. I have food, cigarettes, vodka and a German Shepherd in need of some affection."

Biting her lip, she prayed to any form of God that a German shepherd in need of affection was not a euphemism for anything lewd.

She did have to admit that it was tempting... the food and drinks of course! Not the sexual innuendo she came up with. He sounded sincere in his offer. For a moment, just a moment she found herself wondering if he would try something with her. As attractive as he might have been, she was with someone, and he was clearly in love with the alien Hanala. He knew better than to do something in her absence.

Perhaps she was overthinking it. Yes, food and drink sounded pretty good to her, and she would attempt to kick his ass if he tried something. He might have considered her ugly, but even men like Hoch thought about slumming once and a while. As good as Christian was, Hoch was likely a wild f…

Tatiyana froze. She was doing it again…. Shit.

Purging her brain, Tatiyana nodded, and as Hoch allowed her to step into the command vehicle first, she found herself suddenly swarmed by a howling, tail wagging large dog trying to lick her cheek. Tatiyana froze up as she heard mild laughter behind her. She was pushed slightly aside so that Hoch could enter the vehicle and pull the excited Shepherd away from her. She could not have been happier to have a dog snorting her crotch.

"This is Blondi, she is a harmless puddle of flesh," Hoch introduced the animal as he took a seat on what appeared to be his bed. The dog, now too excited to see her master again jumped onto his bed and attempted to pretend she was a seventy pound lap dog.

Hoch pushed the dog off him and stood up. Silently, he gestured to one of the seats at the table, which Tatiyana gladly took. Silently she watched as Hoch opened a drawer and pulled out to glasses, a bottle of vodka, and then a pack of cigarettes just for her. Another drawer opened and out came a loaf of bread, a block of cheese and a knife. As he brought out more food stuffs, Tatiyana opened the bottle and poured a modest amount of the clear alcohol into each glass.

As Hoch slumped into the seat across from her, Tatiyana slid the glass over to him, which he took and raised. Tatiyana raised her glass. Without putting any thought to it, Hoch and Tatiyana allowed their glasses to clink together.

" _Enjoy life, you're longer dead than alive…"_ Hoch muttered to her.

Tatiyana tried not to gape. That was an actual German toast? Christ they were grim…

" _Budmo_ …" Tatiyana murmured out loud right back. Noticing the confused expression, she added. _"May we live forever_ …"

Hoch quirked his lips at her translation, and sipped his drink carefully, a contrast to Tatiyana downing her drink in one before picking up the bread knife and cut a piece off for Hoch and then herself. Pulling one of her cigarettes out of the case, Joachim lit it and handed it to her.

"You're different then I thought you were. You're a lot less frightening then you act," she admitted as she inhaled her cigarette and cut a slice of cheese off the block for his bread slice.

Joachim chuckled as she combined cheese and bread, and took it from her offering hands. He did not reply as he focused on eating, his other hand pouring the two of them another drink. Biting into her own snack, she swallowed and met his far off expression.

"Why did you hate me so much?" she decided to inquire, her question breaking his hypnotised state. "You called me all sorts of _awful_ things. I do not know how I offended you… other than I smelled terrible."

Hoch did not reply at first, lifting his glass, he swirled the contents before he downed the drink.

"I do not know. I know I should not have such a bastard, and I have no right to offer you an excuse," Hoch admitted softly. A strange regret was in his voice. "I was in a strange place in my life. I spent just about three months with the Gestapo and the first time when I started doubting everything I believed in. It was anger that should not have been directed to you. I'm sorry."

She tried not to stare too widely at him. Hoch had spent nearly three months with the Gestapo… why in the hell would that have happened to a man who had been loyal to the Party up until that point. Whatever he did, it must have been bad to warrant a visit from the secret police. Perhaps he wasn't as bad as she thought.

"Well… you're forgiven," she finally responded; her assurance that it was in the past seemed to have surprised him.

The two fell silent as they ate, drank and smoked. Tatiyana's hand occasionally grazed against Blondi's head. Although she was ravenous, she made her to spare a few scraps for Blondi to chew on. She was a rather sweet canine, considering how aggressive Tatiyana expected an animal raised by Hoch would be.

All of this… this attempt at civility, this display of hospitality. It was all in contrast to what Helmut Mann was quietly spreading to his friends. That Hoch was a monster created by the State. She could see as plain as day Hoch was a victim of fate, just like her. She knew when men were pampered, and when men were beaten: Mann was pampered, Hoch was abused. She knew because perhaps Hoch and she shared more traits then Tatiyana had originally thought. In some ways, it was like looking in a mirror reflection: Hoch, whose rebellious teenage years drove him into the arms of authoritarianism. Tatiyana, whose authoritarianism background led her to a rebellion.

It was… peculiar how things worked out.

Her inflections were interrupted by Hoch as he poured her another glass. He looked a slurred. She took the place and together the two clinked glasses once again.

" _Budmo_ ," he said sounding somewhat in a better mood. "I will admit this; I think Ukrainians have more fun drinking."

" _Enjoy life; you're longer dead than alive_ ," Tatiyana echoed his original toast softly. "Germans drink because they can. Ukrainians drink because they have to."

Hoch and her down their drinks together and dropped the glasses hard on the table. Hoch laughed, and so did Tatiyana. As Hoch leaned backwards into his seat, Tatiyana numbly made herself another sandwich snack.

"Helmut Mann is a good man. But being good doesn't make him right," she stated out loud as she leaned back into her seat as she chewed on another slice of bread, this time packed with cheese and a preserved ham. "He still thinks that things are simple. The fight here can be fought with honour. There is no honour in war, why would it be different this time around? I think that you are right. There can be no mercy for a lot of these bastards."

Hoch poured another drink for the two of them as Tatiyana cleaned her finger tips with her mouth.

"I did not realize you were a cynic like me," he spoke as he picked up his glass and took a drink.''

Tatiyana laughed nervously. She shrugged slightly.

"Things have never been simple for me, as they have been for Mann I think," Tatiyana admitted to the former Waffen-SS officer. "I was given a choice: Stay loyal to the regime that starved my parents and millions of others to death, or side with the liberators, who weren't above killing my people in droves; the exact same liberators who gladly used my people's historical distrust of the Jews to kill them on their behalf."

Tatiyana finished her drink and thanks to the amount of liquor flowing through her veins, she managed to pluck up enough courage to look Hoch in the eye. He was staring at her curiously. He appeared somewhat intrigued by her.

"Well, you cannot blame Mann for being naïve and holding high ideals. He has a nice big family, where everyone was loved," Hoch spoke up, informing the surprised woman. "The Mann's are just another typical family of wealthy, intellectual liberals who did not even bother to fight in the first war. I was Mann's taste of poverty… I mean, I wasn't poor, but compared to the Mann's I sure was. I ended up as his rebellion. My Father was dead; my Mother could not have given less of a shit about me. I got to do the things 14 year old boys could only dream of. That alone made me into Mann's favourite possession."

Tatiyana could only stare in amazement by what Hoch had just admitted under the clear influence of alcohol. Like she assumed, his background was not stable, his friendships, filled with bitter envy and expectations. Silently she cursed Mann. Mann did not seem to know that he had a small part in pushing Hoch past his breaking point. Perhaps not his fault entirely, but he could not escape unscathed when it came to the mess that was Joachim Hoch.

Across from her, Hoch chuckled.

"Say what you will about Hitler, but he sure as hell enforced the universal conscription with next to no exceptions," Hoch spoke darkly as he slid his glass away and fixed himself something to eat. "I imagine Mann and his parents were real shocked when he got the call for service. They must have put him through officer school so that he wasn't just another soldier."

He trailed off of as he ate silently. Or at least he tried to. His head nearly dropped onto his elbow, before he stopped himself and forced himself to focus on his food. Swallowing a mouthful he looked at Tatiyana once again.

"Why did you side with us, anyways?" he suddenly asked, not looking her. "We have not been exactly kind to your people."

The question was a good one, one that she had debated many times before she came to a suitable answer, and even then she had to wonder if she was doing the right thing. Still, Tatiyana shrugged idly. She wanted to remain casual.

"I was in Ternopol when the Germans crossed over into Ukraine," She explained to the attentive German. "You have no idea how absolutely terrified, and relieved I and perhaps many others felt about your invasion. I watched the Soviets try to forcibly ship a trainload of my people east, just like cattle… They would either be sent off to a factory to slave for them, or off to Siberia. But before they could do it, the train yard was suddenly hit by the Wehrmacht and the Soviets troops abandoned the train."

Placing her cigarette to her lips, Tatiyana paused her story as she inhaled and exhaled.

"From the propaganda I listened to as the invasion waged onwards, I had expected the Nazi hoards to appear and Hitler himself would set the trainload of civilians on fire," she pressed on, smiling ruefully at the suddenly amused Hoch. "But that did not happen. Instead of killing them all, they opened the carts one at a time; they helped the elderly and infirmed out of the trains. The doctors and medics treated the sick and wounded… The soldiers shared their rations when they themselves had so little food to share as well."

"Most of all, one of their first acts as conquerors had been to open the churches," she continued, somewhat still dazed as she recalled the past to the curious German. "This was the first time in twenty years that Ukrainians could pray in open, that their priests could come out of hiding and he could return to our roots. I am not religious, but I could not help but be moved that this had happened so quickly."

Her smile vanished. Tatiyana turned away and focused briefly on Blondie who was resting her head on the human's thigh. Scratching her snout, Tatiyana looked back up to the patient Hoch, the ash building up on the cigarette in between his fingers.

"The goodwill did not last long, however," she continued. "The nice, understanding Wehrmacht troops had to push further into Ukraine and when they were gone, they were replaced by that bastard pig Erich Koch as Reichskommissar of our country, his occupation troops became cruel manipulators. Like I said, they murdered in droves, allowed our country to be occupied by even crueller lesser nations, such as the Latvians, the Romanians, the Hungarians…"

She trailed off and snorted.

"But compared to the Soviets, I would rather have the chance of punishment at the hands of Germans, rather than the certainty of punishment should God forbid the Soviets return and remember just how many of us greeted the Nazis with open arms," She admitted. "So I help the Germans to save my people. Hopefully your people will be kind to mine once this civil war is complete and the aliens are revealed."

Coming back to his senses, Hoch shook his head and stubbed out his cigarette. He looked thoroughly disgusted by the tale. By what his people had done to hers. His fingers lapped together as he leaned his elbows onto the table.

"That's the likely plan," Hoch agreed with her. "As far as I am aware, White Russians are being permitted training. It will not be long before the Ukrainians are called up to join the fight. Once we punish Ukraine's tormentors, and re-establish trust, of course."

Although it sounded somewhat vague to her, she found herself strangely satisfied with the response. Coming from a man like Hoch who had served in the east, he probably wanted as many men fighting the Bolsheviks as possible. The Germans doing the majority of the work needed soldiers out there that they could rely on. Who better to fight the Soviets then the White Russians and the Ukrainians that had suffered so much under Lenin and Stalin.

Without meaning to, Tatiyana let out a low yawn. Gulping down his vodka, Hoch smirked slightly.

"How about you take my cot for tonight, if you're exhausted," he offered, gesturing back to his bed. "It's probably nicer than outside."

Looking at the cot, which looked comfy to her, Tatiyana decided to deny herself the offer.

"I… I would like to stay here," she slowly spoke to her host. "But I could not take your cot. The floor is fine."

Hoch pointedly looked at her for refusing his generous offer before nodding, accepting her conditions. Silently, he stood up from of his seat and pulled the top blanket and pillow off his cot and dropped them over at the far end of the command half-track. He turned back and, after making himself another sandwich he took a seat on his cot.

"Look, the fighting is only going to intensify from here on out. I do not think a wom… well, I do not think that _anyone_ should be fighting with my men and me without formal military training," Hoch spoke tersely, picking pieces off the bread. Tatyana noticed clearly that Hoch had corrected his remark. "We'll likely get redeployed to take Kiel next. You can join us there, but I cannot in good conscious subject a civilian to any more combat service then that."

Tatiyana's hands fell onto her lap and bunched together. She did not like what she was hearing. She understood why he was saying it. At the end of the day she wasn't a soldier. She did not have business being a part of the war, other than a secondary role. Even Christian was getting nervous about it. Although there was reason to the concern, she had one great big fact that she could defeat his statement.

"I have _nowhere_ else to go," Tatiyana reminded the Oberst. "I have no means to start a new life."

Hoch nodded.

"I know…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck, not bothered by that fact. "I do not really have anyone in Kiel anymore, but I know a good woman, well, a good family who could take you in. At least until the civil war ends and you can go back to Bohr. If I have not destroyed that relationship, I will see if you can stay there with them… just talk it over with Bohr, will you?"

Drinking the last of her Vodka, she set the glass back down and refilled.

"Y…you would do that?" she inquired with a drunken smile. "You would find me somewhere to _live_?"

Hoch did not reply at first. He stood up from his cot and stumbled over back to his seat. Tatiyana smiled to him and refilled his glass for easily the tenth time that night. He took the glass and consumed half of the contents before he placed the glass back down.

"Of course I'll help you. God help me, I think that we may be friends now…" Hoch finally confirmed his worse suspicions to her, his voice low as he admitted his growing fondness of the woman. "Besides, if Bohr has discussed the matter with his friends, Helmut Mann will have already volunteered his family to take you in… I think I warned you well enough about them."

Tatiyana perched her lips as she nodded.

"I think I would rather stick with your offer for the time being,"

The two new friends laughed, clinking their glasses together once again.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Flattening out his suit and closing his suitcase, Chief of the RDSHA Obergruppenführer Ernst Kaltenbrunner grabbed his suitcase and left his study, closing the door and locking it behind him.

Having spent the past three months in Spain, it would be nice to return to the Reich, even if it was in a state of chaos. While Spain was beautiful, it was still significantly hotter than his Austrian blood was used to. He would acclimatize to his new environment once he finished all his business in soon-to-be quarian controlled German Reich. He had people to evacuate, throats to cuts, and chaos to cause to distract the Wehrmacht and the quarians with while he got as many good man out of the Reich and into Spain for their next phase in life.

Generalissimo Francisco Franco took a little convincing, but in the end he saw the benefits of serving as a destination point for fleeing National Socialists. It took all his effort and quite a bit of gold to smooth the transition, but in the end Franco's greed won out and now Kaltenbrunner was a celebrated new citizen and would have full access to the nation while he built up his ODESSA and Paladin Group projects with the former National Socialists over the next few years. He would be untouchable in Spain. The last thing the Germans needed was to fracture their fragile reputations once the fighting ceased between Germany and the west. Besides, Ernst was going to mind his business for the time being. Build up his network before he took the battles to whoever needed his services…. or perhaps made the serious mistake of catching his attention.

Although it would be difficult to convince many of the ardent National Socialists the value of saving their necks and fight against the destroyers of the National Socialist dream. They would see his way when all the right people were killed. Unfortunately, the biggest asset he needed would be his most difficult recruit.

Otto Skorzeny.

Otto Skorzeny was going to be trouble if he did not handle him right. Although Kaltenbrunner could not sing the praises of his friend loud enough, Skorzeny was a soldier first and foremost. His service to the SS was one of common interests, not devotion to ideology. The SS provided Skorzeny with all the chances of thrill seeking and the fame he wanted. Although he respected and admired the Führer, it would not be hard for him to transfer his skills to the Wehrmacht. So long as the Wehrmacht sated his unquenchable desire for infamy, Skorzeny would sing their praises.

There was a second part to this that required Skorzeny's skills. Ernst needed both Reinhard Heydrich and Heinrich Himmler dead and buried before anything took root. Those two alive presented Ernst with power struggle over the former National Socialists. With them out of the picture, Kaltenbrunner was the recognized leading SS man in the Third Reich, and thus, the only leader left for the others to look to.

Skorzeny and his plots, however, would have to wait for the moment. He had personal matters to deal with. He needed to get his Countess out of Germany and back in his arms in Spain. She was the only woman he knew that could keep him on his toes, and not having her in his arms was starting to get to him. Gisela von Westarp was the only woman who made him smile. It also helped that she was stupid and naïve. Joining him in Spain would just be a new adventure to the Countess.

With her back in Spain and safely out of the way of harm, only then could Kaltenbrunner begin his work…

 _"Papa, where are you going?!"_

His thoughts were subsided from his Countess by the other two joys in his life.

Ernst's mouth widened into a bright smile as he dropped his suitcase and fell to his knees in front of his children: Hansjörg and little Gertrude. He opened his arms and watched as his girl collapsed into her Father's chest, her arms gripping him tightly. Ernst laughed merrily and returned the hug. He looked up and met his boy in the eye. While he was only eight, Hansjörg knew his Father needed something and became serious.

Ernst's heart swelled up. Eight years old and already his son was making him proud of the sheer discipline he was showing. He would be a part of his future plans – a successor to him when he grew up. Freeing one hand from his girl's back, he reached over dropped his hand onto Han's head, bringing him towards him so that he could kiss the boy on the top of his head.

"I'm going on a little trip. I will be back with you as soon as I possibly can," Ernst spoke to his son like he was one of his soldiers. It was exactly how his boy liked to be talked to. "Hansjörg, you watch out for Gerti and your Mother while I'm gone. You're the man of the house. Gerti, you will mind your manners and will not hassle your Mother… understood?"

His little girl looked up at him with adoring eyes for her doting father.

"Okay Papa!" she cried out excitedly. "Lift up! All the way!"

Rewrapping his arms back around the girl and stood right up, making the girl scream out a shocked sounding laughter. He looked to Hans and found him pulling along the suitcase for his Father so that Gerti could have a few fun moments with her Father before he had to leave. Ernst quickened his pace, lifting the girl up onto his shoulders.

 _"Here comes test pilot Gertrud Kaltenbrunner flying at a record seven feet in the air,"_ he narrated out to add to the joy. _"She is the shining example of the Aryan superwoman of tomorrow! Heil to her, mere mortals! HEIL!"_

Enjoying listening to his little girl laugh gaily; it only took four words to ruin his moment of fun.

"Where are you going?"

Looking away from his girl, he found himself staring at Elisabeth, who was looking at him suspiciously. Sighing, Ernst allowed Gerti to slide down him until she was standing back at his side. He looked to Hansjörg and took the suitcase from the boy's hands. He nodded down the hallway in the direction of their room. Hans nodded and took Gerti by the hand, leaving Ernst staring at Elisabeth.

As soon as the children were gone, Ernst pushed by his wife and left her without a single word. Unfortunately, he soon found himself having her follow him to the front door.

"You promised me that we would have a fresh start here," she shrilly demanded as she followed him. "You said you would not keep things from me. What are you up to Ernst Kaltenbrunner, why are you leaving your family again!?"

Ernst glanced back to Elisabeth for the briefest of moments. Yes… he did promise her honesty in order to convince her to come along. Perhaps she did deserve it.

"I'm not leaving my family," he reassured her blandly. "I am picking up my mistress, Elisabeth. I will be back inside of a week."

Leaving his wife stunned by his candour, Ernst pushed by her and made his way to the front door. It took exactly six seconds before the Mother of his children finally found herself. She stormed after him, making Kaltenbrunner smirk as he opened the front door to leave.

 _"W-what did you say to me Ernst?"_ she asked as her thoughts came back to her.

"You heard me the first time," Ernst flatly stated, his back still turned to his wife as he stepped off the steps and walked down the pathway to the car. "I'm picking up my mistress and I'm bringing her back to Spain. Is there a problem with that?"

Laying the suitcase down in the back of the trunk, Kaltenbrunner slammed the trunk shut and turned back to Elisabeth, standing there with righteous betrayal etched in her expression. He blew by her on his way to take a seat in the driver's seat.

"To answer your unspoken question, No Elisabeth, I do not care if you're fine with it or not. There is nowhere you can go to anymore and nothing you can do about it," Ernst stated flatly to his wife. "You keep harping on about honesty between the two of us. Well, I agree. I have a mistress who is ten times the woman you are. The only reason I brought you along was because the children would miss you."

Elisabeth looked as though Ernst had turned around and punched her hard in the solar plexus. Disgusted by her and wishing he got rid of her back when Gerti was born; Ernst started to open the driver's door.

"Then go ahead, you _bastard_ , leave! I won't be here when you come back!" Elisabeth screamed after him. "I shall take the children, and I will leave. Get in that car and you will never see the children or I again."

Ernst froze in place. He had to admit that Elisabeth had more courage than he thought she would have. Unfortunately for her, she had chosen to threaten him with something he just would not stand for. Slowly he emitted a soft chuckle as he closed the car door behind him and turned around, stepping forward to close the gap between her and him.

Suddenly frightened, Elisabeth back away from her encroaching husband, nearly tripping, but she managed to keep her balance.

"If you want to run away, I will not stop you," he informed his wife, making her continue taking steps backwards. "In fact I would be more than happy to pack your bags for you, and then kick your retched, fat ass out of my bed, out of my home and out of my life for good."

Without warning, he grabbed Elisabeth by her mandible and pulled her back over to him with a sudden yelp like a wounded animal. His eyes narrowed dangerously at the woman. His hand tightened around her jaw as he continued to apply hard and harder pressure against her until she slurred out a pain filled sob.

"But if you so much as try and take the children with you, I'm going to flat out _murder_ you," he blatantly informed her, watching as the woman's eyes widened in terror. "I'm not mincing words. I'm not euphemising them for your benefit. I will _murder_ you."

The statement cut as sharp as a knife. He watched as Elisabeth, in a state of absolute shock emitted a low whimper. Seeing her now pacified, Kaltenbrunner her go of her and watched her wordlessly as she collapsed before him. She was breathing raggedly; utterly distraught with the reality check she had received. Ernst squatted down in front of her, still smiling kindly for his wife.

"Let me explain to you what will happen: A couple of Franco's secret police will be following you around from now on. They will pick you up the moment you act suspicious. You will be jailed and undoubtedly tortured, while the children are placed in Franco's care," Kaltenbrunner continued on, his voice unnaturally light considering the topic at hand. "When I come back and find out what you did, I'm going to retrieve the children, take them out for a nice meal and find a nice nanny for them - perhaps I will bring my Mistress into the house. She loves children, and has looked forward to meeting Hans and Gerti for quite some time now. As soon as they are settled in, I will go to the jail you are held in, and I will shoot you dead the moment I enter your cell."

Ernst pressed his hand against the side of Elisabeth's face. He ignored the flinch as he soothed her fear by running his had up and down through her hair and cheek.

"The children will never remember you in a fond light. I will make sure of that," he reassured Elisabeth, still stroking her affectionately. "You will have vanished completely, and if they ask, I will tell them that you killed yourself because the stress of Motherhood got to you. That you hated them and I, and despite all the help I tried to get for you, you were too selfish, so you drowned yourself in the ocean rather than fight for your own survival. You just could not fight your demons long enough to see the children grow up."

Trailing off, he allowed Elisabeth a moment to absorb what he was saying. He listened as her sobbing became louder and louder. Dropping his hands down off her cheek, Ernst took both of her hands into his. Softly, he shushed her. His attempts at bringing her back under control failed as she cried. Ernst pulled one hand back and slapped her hard across the cheek to get her attention once again.

As soon as Elisabeth was looking at her husband, shocked by the smack across her face, Ernst helped stand her back up onto her feet. He was smiling again for her as he took her hands once again.

"Tears will be shed. Hans and Gerti will be devastated by the loss, but I can deal with that, but it would not be long before you are a distant memory as they get used to their next Mother," he assured his wife kindly. Pausing, he added. "However this will all be avoided if you remember my golden rule about taking my children… okay, love?"

Looking up at her husband blankly, it was clear that Elisabeth was numbed and was in a virtual state of shock by Ernst's naked display of personal power he possessed. It did not bother him in the slightest. She had asked for it the moment she decided to call him out and made the even more grievous mistake of taking the children from him.

As soon as she found it in her, Elisabeth nodded and recoiled as Ernst leaned into to kiss her cheek. He turned away and went to open the car door. As he opened the door, he turned around and looked to his wife kindly.

"Now Elisabeth… I am going to be going to pick up my mistress. I will be back in a week," he reiterated as though he was being courtesy to her. "Do you have any plans I need to know about before I leave? Do you have anything you want to say to me?"

Kaltenbrunner watched as his wife stared at him. Elisabeth licked her lips, and with great reluctance, she stepped forward. She leaned in and kissed his cheek as though nothing had happened. She looked utterly dead eyed,

"Have a good trip, love… be safe," was her final response.

Ernst mouth formed into a smile.

Kissing his wife's cheek, Ernst turned away and climbed into the car, slamming the door behind him. Turning the key, he left the courtyard of the villa and his wife, as she collapsed back into tears. Kaltenbrunner did bother to spare her a second glance as he left.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up**


	12. 72 Hours

**Chapter Twelve: 72 Hours: Part One**

 **...**

Smoking his cigarette, Joachim tugged on the too short shirt he had been loaned from a civilian.

After many long, brutal weeks, the drive into the Ruhr had been a success, but a costly one. His Regiment had taken 1,376 casualties, 959 of them killed – almost sixteen percent of his regiment had been killed. While he might have been lucky that nearly eighty five percent made it out of the battle, it was an unacceptable loss of men, and it was bothering him terribly.

As the fighting died and the bombing raids subsided somewhat, the town of Neukirchen-Vluyn had come out to the battlefield where the 7th Panzer Division was stationed and offered their services to the men. For the most part it was helpful. They aided the wounded, brought food, cleaned uniforms from the mud and blood and even helped fix the lighter vehicles. Some of the children formed choirs and sang for the men. It was nice when you considered the hell the civilian and the Wehrmacht had to endure for the past three weeks. Even Hoch figured that having a cleaned uniform would improve his mood at this point.

As the Ruhr Valley was taken (or in the case of the cities, came to an uneasy truce) the war suddenly became fluid. The rebellion had pushed into Thuringia, Saxony and Lower Saxony. The Loyalists were in full retreat into the uncontested National Socialist controlled North Germany, stiffening their defenses in the event of the inevitable final offensive into the heart of the Reich. It was now the 2nd of June. At this rate it would be September before they reached Berlin.

A honk of a horn caught his attention, Joachim looked up and stepped out of the path of the Opal truck, the occupant of the truck were wearing masks and scarfs over their mouths. That was expected considering their cargo was a truckload of corpses in a varied state of decay.

There, lying before his eyes was a huge pile of loyalist corpses. His men and civilian draftees were digging graves across the battlefield for the fallen. It would have been easier to dig a pit, but Hass von Manteuffel felt the adversary deserved a proper burial as their men did. With one exception however: As per Von Rundstedt's orders, the bodies were to be stripped of their uniforms, helmets, boots, weapons and ammunition. Washed and patched up, they would be issued to the Russian volunteer army being trained in the east. It was a disgusting thing to think about, but in a state of total war nothing could be spared.

Exhaling cigarette smoke out of his nose, the smell of tobacco toned down the corpse stench. This was just something he had to witness. He had been inspecting the bodies as they were dumped off the trucks; he was looking for Robert Kruspe, and hoping that he was amongst the dead. So far he was unlucky. At this point it was safe to assume that he was not dead.

"Is something the matter, Hoch?"

Looking up from the pile of naked corpses, Joachim turned around and found Generalmajor Hasso von Manteuffel standing there, digging for his cigarette as he joined the Oberst. He did not reply right away as he tapped the ash off his own cigarette.

"That bastard is not amongst the corpses," he muttered as he looked down on the Generalmajor. "He's going to run off and tell all our old school chums where I am and that I've killed one of them already."

Taking off his cap, Hasso von Manteuffel rubbed his shaved head and sighed. He had likely too much on his mind and no time to listen to Joachim talk about the likelihood of Kruspe organizing a hit squad to take down his traitor former classmate.

"As of two hours ago, the 233rd Reserve Panzer Division and their SS infantry have fallen back out of the sector and are heading northeast to Münster. Whether they stay there is unknown," the Generalmajor informed the Oberst plainly. "It`s looking more and more likely that they shall be withdrawing from Westphalia in order to secure what left of National Socialist controlled Lower Saxony and Schleswig-Holstein. The garrisons across Hesse have sworn fealty to our cause in the wake of what happened in Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg."

Joachim nodded as he digested what Manteuffel disclosed. The end of the conventional National Socialist threat was getting closer and closer now. It would be only a matter of time now that the quarians made their entrance. He doubted very much that Manteuffel knew of this fact. If he did he would not be looking so grim. The quarians would put a large majority of the war to an end simply by revealing themselves.

"I want to congratulate you on your efforts in this battle," Manteuffel went on, his voice "I know it does not feel right, but all things considered, this was a well-earned victory and your part has not gone unnoticed."

Still Joachim remained silent as he inhaled his cigarette with silent reverence. He did not like to congratulate himself with his victories anymore. They always felt cheap, hollow. The lives he lost made each battle feel more and more pointless. Zorah was right all along, he should have just put a bullet in Hitler's head when he had the chance.

"I feel that you have a very bright future ahead of you," the Generalmajor pressed on as he turned away from the corpses. "But you are still a National Socialist of your own admittance. It might come as a surprise, but we aren`t very different, Hoch."

Another truckload of corpses inspected and none of them Robert Kruspe, Joachim sighed and turned away to look at Manteuffel once again.

"I know how you are viewed by your colleagues – both current and now past - they feel you have no business being an Oberst at your youth, nor should you be allowed to considering your political past," he continued as Hoch was now paying his full attention to the Generalmajor. "More than that, they do not like it that your men fight like Waffen-SS men, or that you integrated about a thousand Waffen-SS men into your unit. They do not like your kind of war waged on their own country. They think it's too destructive. Hypocrites, I say, the whole lot of them are hypocrites."

Joachim crossed his arms, his expression turning suspicious.

"Let me guess," he finally spoke to him. "You can teach me to be a Heer officer."

Hasso von Manteuffel nodded plainly; the gesture made Joachim chuckle softly.

"Thank you for the offer, but all I reckon I will learn from the Heer is how to be a stuffy asshole to the men who die on my behalf," he murmured honestly to the Prussian. "They do not need their commandant bullying them. I'm hard on them as it is."

"It's not the men I wish to punish, nor is it your ability I wish to squash. I know better than to change a good thing," Von Manteuffel assured him, his voice light. "I want to take you off of Weidling's hands on a permanent basis. I think that you are a bright, talented young man – a young example of a fine non-Prussian officer on par of Walter Model, minus the stick up your ass - but like Model, you have had some bad teachers."

Any good manners Hoch was possessing had vanished. His eyes narrowed as he took a step forwards to Hass von Manteuffel.

"Don't you dare speak ill of them!" Joachim growled at Manteuffel, his teeth gritted as he glared at the Generalmajor. "You do not know them, so how dare you make an assumption!"

Manteuffel, in a strange display of submission, held up his hands. A Prussian doing this was a peculiar sight, especially to a junior office twenty or so years his junior. Fuming furiously at the suggestion that Lene and Gerald Langer were bad people who used him, or that he would be better off just forgetting, Joachim turned away. He needed to get out of the burial site. The stench was finally making him light headed and needing to vomit.

Although he left, he found Von Manteuffel trailing behind him. His much shorter legs must have made it difficult to keep up with Joachim's long strides up the valley in the direction of where his men were resting, but he managed to stay only a step behind Joachim.

"Look Joachim… I'm sorry," he called after the younger man. "I just feel that the people who taught you everything you know did not exactly focus on anything other than the promotion of National Socialists values, did they? They might have been good people, but they had plans for you and your future."

Joachim snorted as he continued his long stride march up the hillside, blowing by groups of his men who were in various states of relaxation. Manteuffel nodded to them in acknowledgement, Joachim did not. He could not believe this was happening; that the Generalmajor had the gall to have this conversation with him. Discussion of Lene and Gerald were sacrilege, anything less than kind words was grounds from knocking men cold. The only thing stopping him from turning around and popping the short Prussian in the mouth was the whole commanding officer thing.

"Yeah, that's point of being a parental figure, isn't it?" Joachim muttered to the Generalmajor behind him. "Offer direction and have hopes that the kid you're tending to turns out like them? Is it truly that big a shock to you that a National Socialist couple wanted me to be a National Socialist?"

"No of course not," Manteuffel agreed with him without missing a beat. "I can only imagine what happened to you that made National Socialism look so appealing to you. Would you allow me a chance to take a wild stab at it?"

Hoch doubted very much that he had much choice about it.

"Judging from your defensive demeanour one moment, the next moment you're dishing out disproportionate reactions to injustices that I've seen or heard about, I can see it clearly that you were a right shit disturber coming from a less than ideal home," the Prussian general observed.

Joachim remained perfectly silent as he looked on Manteuffel wearily. He knew this was going somewhere he did not want to go. Manteuffel knew right then and there that he had made a direct hit through Joachim's armour.

"Your old man probably beat you and mother was too submissive to intervene. Whatever the case, abuse happened, but your shit disturber nature only made you far too stubborn to break down and tell anyone about it," Manteuffel continued in the absence of Joachim's response. "You were smart, but your education was too institutionalized and it did not give you a chance to explore. Between abuse and intellectual suppression, you lashed out and you lashed out violently. You probably became a leader of a gang of boys, who rallied around you because you did things that were only possible in their wildest fantasies. It explains your charisma with your men. How you can come off as one of them when you are something far and away different."

Manteuffel trailed off as he focused on his cigarette, granting Joachim amount silently glower at the Prussian who guessed so accurately that it was like he had already read his file.

"Yeah, my old man knocked me around when I was small, but thankfully he died," Joachim admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck and turned to face his superior. "My Mother spent her days working, sleeping, socializing with her circle, perpetually drunk and pretending that she didn't have that fourth child. I don't think she did a decent thing until I was finally out of her life."

Joachim clamped his mouth shut as he noticed the curious expression on Manteuffel's face. Deciding he did not want to credit his Mother for trying to save a family from prosecution, so he chose instead to redirect.

"… and yes, having no parental accountability, a hair trigger temper and being bigger at 14 then many men are as adults had that worshiping effect on the boys that surrounded me," Hoch admitted. "Go and ask one of my Hauptmann's, I'm sure he would agree."

The mention of his former friend Mann made Manteuffel chuckle slightly.

"That tough image did not last long I imagine. I'm certain it was memorable, but like a gasoline fire, it was just a burst of flames then smoke. You mentally grew up faster than your old friends and moved on quickly and quietly," he pressed on, his voice strangely friendly as he stepped forward. "The man who taught you the tenants of National Socialism also taught you to be a good man in a way that your father would never have done; and yes I'm not blind to see the basic values National Socialism taught: pride, self-confidence, discipline respect for yourself and your countrymen. I get why National Socialism was so appealing to the Fatherless and the children of broken homes caused in the wake of the first war. It gave you direction you simply didn't have. Having a purpose is a hell of a feeling to have."

Yes, having a purpose was a hell of a thing to have. Looking back on his youth he could not recall the feeling of being directionless. All that he knew was that he didn't like that feeling. He grew to enjoy being controlled. It gave him a sense of who he was. It gave him a direction that told him top always compete so that his position grew higher and higher. With a higher position came respect from peers, underlings and his superiors. He did not know how the hell a civilian in National Socialist Germany could live with being without the privilege of being a party member.

In the end, they turned out to be much smarter than he was. For the most part they kept their hands cleaned.

"So now here you are, a tired shadow of who you were," Manteuffel made his finish. "You have betrayed your cause, everything you've ever known and now you are a hunted, _hated_ man. As much as you may now hate the Party, the ideology is _still_ burning bright in you. You think that losing your National Socialist streak means losing who you are and what he did for you. But your teachers are gone now, are they not? They are gone, and you have no one left and no reason to be this way for. Soon, so will National Socialism, and where will you then? You will be a relic from an age gone by."

Embarrassed by just how scarily accurate Manteuffel had been in his observation, Joachim remained silent. He had spelt out all of Joachim's unspoken suppressed fears. If he did not die in the eventual retaliation in the wake of the collapse of the National Socialism regime, his life would have been for nothing. Nothing he fought for would survive the final purge coming closer and closer.

Feeling faint, Joachim took a seat in what little grass he could find that hadn't been torn up by panzer tracks and explosives. He could not help himself as he laughed at the absurdity he found himself facing. He utterly fucked up his life in the pursuit to make his life better than the one he had.

Hunched over and in a state of near hyperventilation as the full weight of Manteuffel's words came crashing down on him, he felt Hasso drop his hand on the Oberst's shoulder. Joachim looked up to the Prussian. He looked almost regretful that he said all of that to the Joachim. At the same time it was something that needed to be spelt out to him, something that had to be said aloud. Just about everyone who Joachim knew walked on eggs. Manteuffel being blunt was for the best.

"I hope you do not think that you or I will ever be able to scrape the National Socialism out my life," Joachim muttered as he looked away from the older man and stared intently at his lap. "Even if I don't want to be one I'll always be one of them. There's no other way around it."

Behind him Manteuffel gave off a sigh and moved around to look at Joachim properly. He knelt down in front of the Oberst, his expression grim.

"No I don't. National Socialism has been such a big part of your life that you know nothing else. I'm not a miracle worker; all I can do is to try and help give you an alternative course for you to take," he admitted carefully to Joachim. "At least with an alternative course, it gives you a chance to lessen the hold National Socialism has on your life. With that fracture in your ideology, you might be able to break free from it soon enough… or perhaps never. All I know for sure is that you can never know unless you try."

Digging into the denim jeans he wore he grabbed his cigarettes and lighter. He remained silent as he lit up and smoked. The smoke streamed unsteadily from his mouth.

"What do you want out of me, Herr Generalmajor?" he inquired, looking up to Manteuffel with a mild smirk. "You know, you're much too idealistic to be a proper Prussian."

Manteuffel could only laugh at the observation.

"Yes, my compatriots consider me a classical liberal," Hasso confessed to the younger man. "It bugs the shit out of them."

Joachim and Manteuffel fell in a silence as the Generalmajor stubbed out his cigarette. Hoch looked up and found that the men wandering aimlessly or with purpose were casting their eyes to their superior officers. Joachim turned away once again and continued to smoke in silence.

"Look, I think that you deserve so much better than you have been provided as of late," Manteuffel spoke up, his voice growing sincere. "I saw the hatred you incurred for listening to your conscience. If National Socialism will not provide you a place in our future society, then Prussian conservatism will have to make due for you."

Exhaling smoke, Joachim casted the Generalmajor a sideways grin at what was happening here. Manteuffel's sincerity was starting to eat away at him. He wanted to help him? Was this guy fucking mad? Had the war finally drove the Generalmajor insane?

He had to have been insane. Nobody, nobody survived mentoring someone like Joachim Hoch.

"A mentor?" Hoch repeated.

"Yes Hoch," Hasso affirmed right away. "Is that really so hard to believe that I think you are worth my time?"

Joachim rubbed the back of his neck as he looked incredulously up to the squat Prussian Generalmajor.

"Jesus Christ," Hoch exhaled. "You really want to be my mentor, don't you? With all due respect to both you and your rank, but are retarded? Do you have a death wish? In case you forgot, I'm fucking marked."

Blowing the aside the accusations of being mentally unbalanced for even daring to consider a teaching role to the former Waffen-SS/full time train wreck, Joachim Hoch, Hasso von Manteuffel grinned slightly as he stood up. Like Joachim he once again went for his cigarettes and looked casually around.

"I am, admittedly eccentric, but not insane, and yes, I want you as my student, as an apprentice, protégé, or even friend; whatever you wish to call it," Hasso addressed Hoch. "I just want to be there in more than a capacity then a CO. Most troubled youth need one –even the one ones commanding thousands of men into battle. Besides, being hunted by our enemy shows me your dedication to self-improvement," he informed Joachim, who arched his eyebrow at being called a 'troubled youth'.

Manteuffel looked back to Joachim. He could see the clear confusion etched into the junior officer's stunned expression.

"Look, Joachim I know I needed roots when I came home in 1918. I was close to being a National Socialist myself when Heinz Guderian intervened," he admitted to the younger man, his tone a little uneasy by the confession. "I was his student in panzer combat, and it kept me busy, productive and apolitical. I can attest about how beneficial it is having someone there for you in a guidance role."

Joachim felt a little sick, like his insides were being torn in to different directions. If Manteuffel was being sincere –and Joachim very much believed he was- then this would be an import ant first step in coming back from the suicide course he was on. Having a person in his life willing to teach him to be something more than what he already was... it would be useful.

He was also well aware of the other nagging concern of his. This was exactly the sort of thing that Hanala wanted from Joachim before she could commit to something serious and long standing between the two of them. Presenting her with this would tell her that he was taking his personal recovery seriously. Perhaps it would help her start to trust him around her niece.

Of course there was a problem. All of this good that could help level him still left Joachim with the feeling that he was fundamentally betraying Gerald Langer. It felt like he was going to forget that the past eight years ever happened. He would move onto Manteuffel and everything that the Langer's did for him would simply be left behind. It just seemed so wrong to him right now. It didn't matter how terribly things had ended.

"I tried this once before… having a mentor, I mean," Hoch confessed to the Gneralmajor. "I had to kill him."

There was a subtle shift in the enthusiasm that Manteuffel seemed to have possessed from the thought of turning Joachim Hoch into a pet project. He probably did not know until this moment the full extent of what happened to the last man who offered to guide Joachim. The small shift in the mood did not stem his determination much.

Silently, Joachim ran his hand through his hair and inhaled his cigarette.

"You are wrong about your first claim, Generalmajor," he informed Hasso von Manteuffel. "The disproportionate revenge is sort of a new development."

As Joachim stood up, Manteuffel stepped back to give Joachim some space. His expression was stony.

"I can help you control that temper: focused rage is far more constructive then blind rage," Manteuffel assured him. He paused, and then added. "For now, however, I secured my men three days of rest before we head north. You're under my command now. Go and take a rest. Just… thank it over."

Joachim eyed him carefully. He shook his head. He could not leave, not when he had important work to do.

"Not possible," Joachim said as he started to turn away. "I have to see about getting replacements in-"

"That was an order, Hoch. I am your new Commandant. Helmuth Weidling gleefully signed you over to me, so I'll handle the reinforcements," Manteuffel cut him off. "I don't want to see you in command until Saturday morning. Go and rest, you earned it."

Joachim did not reply at first. He was busy pondering what three days of leave would grant him to do. At this point he had only one destination in mind: The Fleet, Hanala. It had been nearly a month since he last saw her. For him, spending a couple days resting with her at his side sounded more than appealing.

Of course it could all not happen. Perhaps Hanala did not want him back on the fleet and more specifically on her ship. She was extremely concerned about the safety of her niece, perhaps she would tell him to go back to the planet. It would be polite of course, but the message would be clear. She did not trust him to at least attempt at being good to the child. She had good reasons to fear that, he scared the shit out of the girl.

Still, it was at least worth a try. He better then to assume anything was set in stone. If he could convince her to spend a couple hours with him, then that would be more than enough. He could spend the rest of his leave drunk as fuck.

"With your permission, I would like to go to the woman that I am seeing," Joachim requested out loud to the Generalmajor.

Manteuffel stared at him quizzically for a moment before nodding and smiling. He appeared amused that someone like Joachim would be capable of sharing his life with someone else.

"If she's accessible and you are back by Saturday morning, then by all means," Hasso permitted, inclining his head. "I am sure that she would like the visit."

Deciding that it was probably not in his best interest that Joachim had the ability to reach the far side of the moon in less than an hour, he simply nodded, snapped to a state of attention and exchanged salutes with his new superior. He dropped his hand and continued onto his command halftrack. He would have to get Stauffenberg prepared to be his dog handler and acting Commandant of the Regiment while he was away.

"How do you do it?" Manteuffel called out begin him suddenly. "How do you control someone like Joachim Peiper and a thousand Waffen-SS troops? Wasn't Peiper a military attaché to Himmler once?"

Joachim paused and turned back to face the curious Generalmajor. All that he could really do was shrug at Manteuffel. Peiper's continuing loyalty was a mystery that Joachim tried his best to shove aside. He had far more pressing matters.

"I wish I had an answer for that one, Herr Generalmajor. The best I got is that Joachim Peiper operates how he wants to operate. I have gotten lucky that Peiper and the Waffen-SS hasn't turned around and torn the Regiment apart," he admitted to his new boss. "It could just be that he saw reason; it could be that like a lot of first generation Waffen-SS men, he hates the Allgemeine-SS. Or he may be planning an assassination of me or someone else higher up the food chain. I don't know. Ultimately it's his choice on how he wants to proceed."

Manteuffel stared at Joachim as though he had admitted to being a sexual deviant. Joachim grinned slightly.

"Why do you think I have Claus von Stauffenberg as a counterweight?" he asked rhetorically. "If I am killed, then Claus takes over and destroys Peiper. Peiper is not stupid, he probably knows that."

His piece spoken, Joachim turned back and continued his way to his Command Hanomag. He tried not to smirk as he listened to the incredulous laughter coming from the Generalmajor.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"I don't know what else to tell you, Ernst. All I know is that Himmler has thousands of places he could be. Tracking him is next to impossible, especially when he's moving from one place to the next."_

"I don't want your excuses. I want your help! Is there anyone at all you might be able to trace him to? What about Heydrich, surely he would know."

This was getting infuriating, what in the hell was happening in Berlin to create this lack of consistency in command!? How in the hell was the chief of the Gestapo not on top of this. Things had gotten real sloppy without him there bashing heads in.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Ernst Kaltenbrunner turned around and sat on the edge of his desk. A small office Gisela had set up in her manor so that he would have somewhere to work and be close to her at that same time. At this point, it was looking like his work would be cut out for him. He needed eyes on Himmler. Himmler was a dead man walking and the Reichsführer had to have known it if he was keeping off the radar. Between Ernst, the Wehrmacht and the ever looming quarian threat, Heinrich Himmler must have been scampering about like a rat.

" _Heydrich would know, but Heydrich will never talk about it, and you can't get to him,"_ Chief of the Gestapo, Heinrich Müller informed his boss. _"Heydrich is a paranoid demagogue who thinks he's the Führer ascending now and considers you to be threat number one to his power base…. Hold on for a moment…"_

Ernst remained silent as requested. Heydrich… he should have killed Heydrich after Heydrich killed that bastard's Hoch's family. That was his fantasy, but he knew better. He needed Heydrich to take the credit for destroying the Langer's. Hoch was still a very valuable chip he needed in his future. As a threat to his future, Hoch would help secure Kaltenbrunner's future in exchange for the survival of him and that quarian bitch of his.

 _"Himmler has taken up a new attaché to the Waffen-SS apparently,"_ Müller spoke up after a moment of silence. _"His name is Hermann Fegelein."_

 _Hermann Fegelein_ … well it was about to become a very bad time to be Hermann Fegelein when he was now Ernst Kaltenbrunner's focal point of attention.

"Give me a briefing on him," he uttered, listening as the Gestapo Chief flipped the page on the file he was reading.

 _"He's an Oberführer, he's stationed with the 8th SS Cavalry Division Florian Geyer. He's been assigned there to keep an eye on Wilhelm Bittrich, who is connected to Paul Hausser and his pro-Wehrmacht sympathies,"_ Müller pressed on, his voice distracted as he read the file he had on this Fegelein. _"He's a real deviant. Screws just about everything he sees. As deviant as he may be, he's exceptionally brave. Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves, wounded twice so far. Himmler took a real shining to him after his actions in the Pripyat swamps where he ordered the killing of-"_

" _Ernst_?"

Ernst looked up and found Gisela standing there, her hair down and wearing only her brassiere. There were two light dresses in each hand and smile on her face as showed them off to him.

"Ernst, what do you think I should wear for our ride to the airfield?" she inquired airily. "I was thinking of a nice, loose summer dress. It's too hot to wear anything else."

Kaltenbrunner reached over and with the palm of his hand, pushed Gisela by her face out of his way so that he could pay attention to Muller's assessment on the Waffen-SS man who had caught his attention. She stumbled back and glared up at him. All that Ernst could do was smirk and turn away from the woman, waiting silently for her to leave him alone.

As soon as he knew she was gone, he put the receiver back to his ear.

"Listen Heinrich, I want Fegelein standing in front of me in in sometime next month. For now I have to conclude my personal business and finish my evacuation preparations," Kaltenbrunner finally spoke up, his voice dropping an octave. "Even if you have to pick him up in the middle of the night and drag him to me I want him in front of me. For now I want you to find me some way to contact Wilhelm Bittrich. Perhaps I can make a deal with him. I'm sure he would be more than happy to hand this little bastard to me."

There was a brief pause as Heinrich was likely writing the details down.

 _"I understand,"_ he returned. _"If I may ask, what is your business with Himmler? I mean just in case I get in contact with him."_

What he wanted to say to Himmler? He wanted to push a knife into the chest of that squirmy little chicken farmer for enacting the extermination policy that doomed the Reich the moment the quarians got word of it. Kaltenbrunner might have hated the Jews and was quite alright with killing them, but not at the expense of everything he worked years to attain.

"I just want a conversation," Ernst replied finally, suppressing his disgust of Himmler. "We have many things to discuss. Speak to you soon, friend."

He hung up and stepped back from his table. He remained perfectly motionless as he stared out of the study's window. He had plenty of time left. He was overworking himself when the Himmler and Heydrich problem he was having did not need to be solved just yet. He needed the two of them alive still, acting like bastards. He needed the hatred so riled up in the rebels and the aliens that when Kaltenbrunner dealt with both men, they would imagine Kaltenbrunner as a friend or at the very least someone with a mutual interest, and leave him alone once and for all. The aliens were very morally ambiguous. They were quick to forget things so long as it helped them out.

Exhaling he turned and left the room and wandered down in the direction of the French music being played on the gramophone. He paid it no attention as he entered the master bedroom of Gisela von Westarp, his Countess, and his mistress. Wearing a patterned sundress, she was quietly packing her valuables, her expression was cross. Clearly she did not like being pushed around.

"You did not have to push me around, Ernst," Giesla uttered to him. "I wasn't trying to be a pest. You and I both know that your work does not bother me in the slightest."

Ernst stepped into the room, his expression softening as he noticed how perturbed Gisela was. Perhaps he had overreacted to her enthusiasm. He was tired, stressed out; he just wanted to get her out of the country before the Heer inevitably rolled up and took the place.

"I know, and I'm sorry; it's just that everything is stressful when no one knows what to do, and I want to do is to get you out of the country and keep you safe," Ernst admitted as he slipped a cigarette into his mouth. "Please, just pack the essentials, love. I'll get you whatever you need in Madrid."

Forgetting her annoyance with him, Gisela turned back and looked at Ernst with an expression of cold disgust. This had been the first time he revealed where exactly they would be leaving to and it appeared she was extremely apprehensive with where they would live.

" _Madrid_ , as in _Spain_?" she repeated, her voice filled with sheer disgust at the concept. "You meant that we're living with _Spaniards_ as neighbours? Could we not instead move to Rome, or Milan? We at least live somewhere civilized, somewhere where the locals don't squat in dirt holes to shit?"

Ernst could not help but laugh. The Spaniards had devolved into simpletons since the end of the Spanish Civil War, but they were solid, reliable. The country itself had a lot of potential but the Civil War and this one was keeping the nation from prospering. Spain would rise, and Kaltenbrunner would help oversee it. Spain would be quietly controlled by the National Socialists with Franco as their puppet.

"Italy is all but under occupation by the Wehrmacht whether Il Duce would want to admit it or not," he gently reminded his Countess. "Spain is in tatters but no one wants to get involved in the country... are you pouting? Christ, you look like my three year old."

Kaltenbrunner broke down into an awful laugh, making the Countess look over and slap his chest, her smack only making Ernst laugh even harder at her. She was being far too adorable to take anything she did seriously.

"Can you really blame me?" she demanded from him, her voice a hiss as she continued to pack. "I have all this lovely protected property and you want to uproot me and have me live with a bunch of lazy, homeless Latin psychopaths. I don't intend on living in poverty, Ernst Kaltenbrunner."

As she turned away to move to her closet, Kaltenbrunner stood up and grabbed her arm. She froze as the giant Austrian wrapped his long arms around her. Gisela emitted a soft gasp as he pushed his fingers into her flesh and rested his head on the top of her head.

"Look Gisela. Where we end up is irrelevant. What matters is that you and I are going to live like royalty," he promised her, his words breathing into her ear softly. "You would not believe the amount of treasure, gold and currency I have smuggled out of Germany. I'm talking about eight hundred million Reichsmarks and that's only the beginning. I'm going to drain this rat hole with all I can muster."

Slowly, Gisela rolled herself around so that she could look up at him properly. The concept of that much sat in his name in Spain suddenly made living in that shithole all the more bearable in her opinion. Obviously she would not have access to most of it. It would have to go into the development of his special projects and buy the government to make it nice and friendly to the shadow National Socialist regime, but she would never have to worry about being poor.

"You, me and the kids," he pressed on, his hand running through her hair. "We'll get married and have a couple of our own eventually. Life will be good. I promise you this."

Gisela's smile widened even further.

"You're going to marry me?" she repeated, understandably sceptical.

Ernst nodded. Even though there was a confirmation, the smile as lovely and as bright as it had been suddenly vanished. She pulled herself out of his reach and continued packing her bags. Ernst frowned at the reaction and inhaled his cigarette, turning away from her.

"What about your wife?" she demanded, her voice growing bitter at the mention of Elisabeth. "The last time I checked a nation of Roman Catholic fascists do not condone divorce."

This reaction was to be expected. Gisela absolutely abhorred any thought of Elisabeth. She did not like the thought of playing a mistress role to a woman of her low birth.

"I never said I was going to divorce her," Ernst corrected her as he sat down on the edge of her bed. "I'm going to get rid of her when you're settled in; perhaps a car accident will take her away from me, maybe a drowning will happen; a very tragic turn of events for my poor wife. What you think?"

Closing her suitcase, Gisela dropped it in front of Ernst's feet and stood there for a moment. Silently she took a seat next to Ernst and wrapped his hand up with hers. She looked up to him, it was clear to him that she was silently plotting. Slowly she smiled and pushed herself up his side so that she could kiss his cheek. Most women would shrink away had they heard something that awful stated by the man they loved.

Gisela wasn't one of those women.

"I think you should just shoot her dead and get it done with it. A bullet through her eye is what that fat, dog-faced _bitch_ deserves," she dared to breath aloud, her mouth forming into an awful smile that matched his own.

Ernst returned the smile. Here sat a woman after his own heart. Here was a woman who knew just how messy life was and was more than willing to condone it in order to get what she wanted. This must have been what love felt like.

"I do have to think about my children. I cannot simply just get rid of her, even if shooting her dead sounds appealing," he had to say much to their chagrin, his hands squeezing her fingers softly. "It's all a matter of a legacy to them. I've already plotted out a suicide for her to commit to, think you could live with that?"

Next to him, Gisela sighed in mild frustration.

"I suppose it might have to do," Gisela conceded, her smile tightened as she added. "Could it at least be a particularly gruesome suicide? Slitting her wrists in the bathtub with a suicide letter blaming the children? Hans and Gertrud need a better Mother and I _want_ to be that."

Ernst replied with a kiss on this beautiful woman's head.

Yes, this was love.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"I think we can do this… what do you think?"

Turning away from the target –an Opal Blitz truck and a squad of SS men, he pulled the binoculars from his eyes. Former SS-Obersturmführer Heinz Heydrich turned back to the source of the question: his friend Leutnant Hans Gerd von Rundstedt. He was clutching tightly on to his MP-40 and was clearly nervous. Heydrich grinned as he loaded a magazine into his own MP-40.

"I think this is going to make my Brother fucking furious. That's what I think," he lightly returned to Hans.

The two men chuckled nervously.

They had been here in Berlin since the beginning of the Civil War. With great care they spent their many months trapped in the Capital recruiting a civilian and Heer resistance group. The Heer men sympathetic to the rebels did their best to arm the seventy men and women who they had recruited, but they could only deliver in small numbers. That meant that they could not commit to any serious operations and even if they had the armaments, they were the only two trained soldiers the resistance cell had.

At least that had been the case up until two weeks ago. Everything had changed now.

"Von Rundstedt, Heydrich, on me."

The voice coming from downstairs belonged to their new leader. The two men glanced at each other and pulled themselves out from their spotter positions.

Although Hans and Heinz had organized the small partisan group, it was clear to the two academic oriented soldiers that they had no ability when it came to training and leading men and women into combat. Thankfully there had been an answer to the problem. The answer came from none other than Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, who was impressed when he heard that the two young men had taken the initiative and organized a Berlin resistance before he had. He was so impressed that he sent along an instructor.

Canaris ended up sending his top Brandenburger Special Forces operative Oberstleutnant Theodor von Hippel. Von Hippel was a legend. Hippel was experienced in guerrilla warfare. He had spent the Great War in Africa under the daring General Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck; the same Lettow-Vorbeck who was in many ways the precursor to Rommel.

He led the English and Belgians around by their noses across Africa and was the last General to end the war, having been the only German commander to make it into English controlled lands in the entirety of the war. The old war hero, who famously told Adolf Hitler to go fuck himself when the Führer asked him to take an active role in the war was only too keen on joining the rebellion when Hans' Father called him up.

Hippel, one of the few German officers spent much time in the first war admiring the exploits of T.E Lawrence against the Turks from afar. His answer to what he saw during the great Arab revolt was the basis of the Brandenburgers, a unit not unlike the British SAS that harassed Rommel before he had pushed the English clean out of North Africa was a concept not welcomed by the Prussians during the Reichswehr era. Undaunted he went to Admiral Wilhelm Canaris who gladly employed the man to develop the concept.

But that was back in the 1930's. The Brandenburgers had long since been swallowed up by the Waffen-SS and for the most part pushed the Wehrmacht personnel to the sideline. Their star pupil, Adrian von Fölkersam had become the symbol of the unit and the benchmark for all recruitment. Out of a job for the most part, now the 53 year old Commando was here, teaching a new generation of irregulars the concept of mosquito combat: There was no way to fight the sheer military strength of the Berlin garrison. But if they were able to cause enough mosquito bites, the garrison would be distracted at the very least from the advancing rebel's. The best case scenario, the attacks created a huge rift between the SS and the loyalist Wehrmacht; a rift so big that could cause a small civil war inside of the city.

Stepping off the last of the steps, the two of them turned the corner to the kitchen and found the Oberstleutnant standing with twenty men and women, all of them looking on a map of Pankow district. Hippel looked up and gestured to the two men to join them.

"We're not seeing any movement in the streets," Hans-Gerd adressed the man. "Just five men on their smoke break."

Hippel nodded at the report issued by Rundstedt and turned back to the map. The old man dropped his MP-43 onto the table and collected the map, stuffing it in his pocket.

"So let's go over this one last time. I shall start," Hippel spoke up to the group at large. "Heydrich, Rundstedt and I rush out and hit the munitions guards. Erich. What will you do?"

The man named Erich… well at seventeen; he looked like a scrawny kid. Shyly, he looked at his compatriots. He lifted up his crow bar, map and hand torch.

"As soon as I am called by you, I run out, pop the sewer hatch and climb down the hatch," he recited, his voice lucky not to crack. "Waiting there, I will help the salvage team down the manhole and lead them to Tegel."

Hippel nodded to the boy.

"Fire team?" he called out next. His attention turned to six men, gasmasks around their necks and wearing a bandoleer each filled with mixed up and highly flammable Molotov cocktails. The leader of Molotov group, a former mechanic stepped forward.

"We come out as soon as Erich leaves. We hit the grocer with the first throw, our next target is the building on the opposite side of the street, and our third target is the street itself until we are out of bottles," the Mechanic announced, his voice a little worried like the rest of the group. "Our goal is a smoke screen lasting as long as possible: Deterrence is the name of the game."

Once again Hippel nodded, he seemed to be growing please that this was all coming together so smoothly.

"You keep those gas masks on. I don't want you winded by the smoke," he ordered the firebombers sternly before turning his attention to the next group.

"Salvage crew?" Hippel called next.

The salvage crew were devoid of any equipment other than several empty backpacks each carried for them to fill. The leader, a young woman named Sophie Scholl. She had been the former White Rose leader who had long since giving up on the silly notion of passive resistance and using elegant newsletters as a means to stop the likes of Himmler and Heydrich. Silently she stepped forward for her turn to recite her direction.

"We come in and take as much ammunition, firearms and grenades as we possibly can, but we must be able to still stay agile," Sophie recited, steady and ready to do her part. "When done we will drop down into the sewer and stay dead silent Erich is our guide."

Like the others, Hippel nodded to the young woman.

"It is preferable that you focus your collection off small arms ammunition on 7.92x52mm Mauser rounds and Kar 98k's. They will be the most efficient on ammunition for now, especially when I train you to handle firearms," Hippel tacked on, watching the young woman nod in understanding. He turned back to Heinz, adding. "Assault team, what is our assignment?"

Heinz looked to Hans briefly before turning back to the leader.

"Hans tightens the manhole cover behind the salvage team retreat off the street. I will turn the truck on and secure the accelerator to the floor, but not before the fire bombers place a time delayed Molotov cocktail in the back to cook off the remaining ammunition and explosives. You will cover the fire bombers. We will all reunite in with the salvage team and Erich at the safe house-"

Hans raised his hand.

"Not before causing minimum two attacks in to different areas of Berlin in order to throw the enemy off," Von Rundstedt recited. Heinz rolled his eyes as Hippel nodded to Hans.

Goddamn teacher's pet.

Hippel turned away from them. There was no motivational speech, no salute, no words of encouragement. They all knew what they had to do and they all knew that it was time to finally cut their teeth and take the battle to the National Socialists after months of building up for this one small action. It was time to finally do their part.

Hippel, Hans and Heinz led the group and stepped in front of the front door, all parties organized in order of their appearance in the mission. The Assault team shared one last look to one another.

Before the younger men knew it, Hippel threw open the door and launched himself outside, Hans and Heinz on his tail. Together they stormed in to the street and towards the truck down the road, their weapons raised and firing on the group of SS men, who dropped their cigarettes and went for their own weapons. It was too late for two of them, their chests exploded and their bodies collapsed in front of the truck.

The last three SS riflemen ducked for cover behind the vehicle. Hippel, Hans and Heinz followed their example and dropped to the pavement. With both Hans and Heinz laying down suppressive fire, Hippel stood up and flanked around the vehicle, his MP-43 at the ready. Before the SS men could react, they were silenced in six shots by the Oberstleutnant. Heinz and Hans stood back up as Hippel moved back around the truck, his attention on the two story home where the other teams were waiting for the all clear.

 _ **"All clear!"**_

The door flew open and out ran the teenager, his crowbar to the ready as Hans, Hippel and Heinz moved into covering positions. The sounds of sirens were blaring closer and closer. As soon as the boy was out the bombers came barrelling out and charged further down the street to the emptied out grocer, the rags of their first Molotov's already burning.

As the bombers threw their improvised flammable devices at the abandoned structure, Erich finished pulling the manhole cover. Dropping the crowbar and pulling out his flashlight, he climbed down into the hole. With Erich's objective complete, and the fires oily smoke now burning right across the entire street, Hippel turned back to their insertion point.

 _"Salvage!"_

That was all that was needed to say to get Sophie Scholl and the salvage crew running out into the street and toward their target. Several went to work stripping the ammunition and rifles off the dead SS men, the rest climbed into the Opel Blitz truck and went to work clearing as much ammunition as they could carry from the vehicle.

Heinz's heart was pounding this was starting to get to him. This would likely be the only time that they would get away with this brazen robbery. The next time would be messy. They would be prepared, especially if his Brother decided to get involved. Perhaps Reinhard would come out and personally intervene the next time they did this. It would Heinz a chance to correct the mistake his Mother and Father made.

As soon as their bags were full of ammunition and grenades and their arms filled with weapons, the salvage team climbed out of the vehicle and surrounded the manhole. As quickly as possible, they dropped their bags and rifles down to Erich, who was presumably down there catching and amassing the bags. Their arms free, the salvage team one by one entered the manhole. Taking it as his cue, Hans moved out of his firing position and moving lowly, he joined the last salvagers. It was Sophie Scholl. Carefully he helped her down into the manhole who, and as soon as she was clear he went to work locking the manhole back into place.

His work complete, Hans went back to his fire position and covered Hippel as he stood up and ran towards the fire bombers. Heinz stood up as well and turned his attention back to the truck. He pried open the door and found much to his luck, the keys were still in the ignition. Removing a slab of concrete he grabbed just prior to the mission, he set it down onto the cab seat and turned back.

On his hands and knees by one of the dead men was Hans Gerd von Rundstedt. Hi hand was dipped in the soldier's pool of blood. Heydrich's mouth dropped open as he watched the Prussian pull his hand out and begun to write something on the clean pavement.

"What the hell are you doing, Hans!" Heinz hissed at him.

He did not receive an answer as again and again Hans dipped his hand into the pool of blood. Each letter he added made what he was writing down clearer. There, dripping in blood, laid a single word.

 **VAMPYR**.

A hand fell onto his shoulder, making Heinz jump. It was Hippel who looked somewhat amused at the sight of Hans' impromptu blood based art. The fire bomber looked on it as well. Like Hippel, they too seemed to be impressed. Several of the whispered _'Vampyr'_ almost reverently, like the group had finally found its name.

"This is psychological warfare, Heydrich," Hippel spoke to his student. "They now know we exist. If we're going to be a partisan group, we might as well give them a name to fear."

Dipping his hand once more into the blood, Hans pressed his hand flat down, leaving a bloody hand just underneath the _**VAMPYR**_ marking. He stood up and offered a mild grin to the onlookers. Hippel nodded and turned to Heinz. He grabbed one of the Molotov cocktails off one of the masked arsonists' bandoleers and handed it to Heydrich.

"Finish this Heydrich," Hippel spoke again. "Let's sour your dear Brother's day."

Grinning at the thought, Heydrich nodded. He turned back to the truck and turned the ignition. He waited until the team was across the street and back into their infiltration point before he moved to the back of the truck, silently lighting the oily rag and dropping the lit Molotov in the with the munitions and explosives the salvage team had to leave behind. His heart pounding he ran back to the front of the truck, pulled the truck out of park, shifted to first gear and dropped the concrete slab onto the accelerator.

The truck speeding down the one way street, Heinz bolted back to where the rest of the team was. He paid no attention to the vehicle as it hit a wall, or to the explosion and the ammunition cooking off. Gathering the last of their things, the team fled from the area, intent on continuing today's bloodshed and chaos.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"It's getting pretty loud out there."

Although Hanala was getting a real hang to this Motherhood thing thanks to a combination of Mother and Magda Goebbels. It had been decided by Mother and her friend Rala'Navara that she was in need of a little time off from the duties she threw herself into. Mother took in Saleb and Rala convinced her Mother to take her child so that her and her husband could put together a party on the Bismarck. Just a small get together Rala had assured both her mother and Galina.

It turned out to be a slight understatement.

Before Hanala knew, the ship was being flooded with shuttle crafts filled with quarians of various ages. By then the small get together had been retroactively converted into a _'Welcome to Earth'_ rave. All observation deck window shutters lifted, the vessel was moved out of orbit on the far side of Luna for a clear observation of Earth.

It all seemed so very wrong to her - having a party while the entire planet was engulfed in warfare - at the same time, it had been quite some time since she paused and remembered that she was still a young woman. She was in a role that made her feel much older than she actually was. Getting drunk and dancing the night away would not be such a bad idea. It would felt decompress that heavy feeling of being over her head.

Yes, the great Hanala'Jarva was feeling in over her head.

Between raising a child who would have good and bad days, rehabilitating a two former National Socialists and battling the seemingly inexhaustible Halid'Zorah for a greater admiralty position, she just felt overwhelmed on occasion. One evening where she could just… forget would help immensely.

But that would have to wait. She got a call in from Prince Louis-Ferdinand Hohenzollern. She took the meeting when Rala and Cal had assured her that the party would just be a small gathering. On the bright side, the Princess agreed to keep the meeting under an hour. Like her, he had a function to attend, unlike her; it was a fundraising charity for war orphans he was attending. Her party was about getting shitfaced and forgetting everything that plagued her.

Pushing all things that bothered her away from her thoughts, she leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing Rala to darken her eye lids with makeup. With the end of the fleet life looming, the fleet were starting to use their luxury items once again. Practical jump suits were being traded in for dresses and clothing that were fifty years old. The day where quarians could just be quarians rather than shadows of their former selves was drawing closer. Today and tonight would be their first taste of normalcy.

"How many people are rated to be in this ship, Hanala?" a male voice came from the doorway. "I've tracked about two hundred are on board already."

Hanala opened her eyes and leaned around Rala to look at Rala's husband, Cal'Navora standing in the doorway. Like his wife he too was flamboyantly decked out for the party. The opened door allowed the strong sounding electronic music to waft into the bedroom. Hanala smiled privately. Today was going to be fucking fun. With any luck Magda Goebbels would be here. She asked the woman to serve as her guest.

"Six hundred people are rated to be on board the ship, but please Cal, no more than four hundred, we need to be able to move around," she returned to her friend's husband. "I have to go and take a meeting and I want to be able to return."

Cal nodded and was about to leave until Rala tapped her lips. The husband rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss her before breaking it off. He glanced to Hanala briefly before whistling.

"I didn't realize prostitution was legalized on the fleet, Hanala'Jarva, how much?" he teased her.

Hanala screeched furiously, Rala slapped her husband in his stomach, making him laugh as he doubled over and quickly backed out of the room, leaving both women fuming. Hanala pulled the mirror glass off Rala's makeup tray and took a good inspection of her mirrored image. Surely she could not be that bad…

"You're looking good," Rala spoke slyly.

Hanala dropped the mirror and glared at her friend for committing such a travesty to her face. She looked unnaturally pale. The only upside to the makeup assault had been that it all but covered up her facial scarring. As nice as that might have been that did not matter.

"Cal is right!" she cried haplessly. "I do look like a prostitute!"

Rala did her best not to flat out laugh.

"Yes, but you look like one of those high class asari consorts!" she assured her friend gaily. "Besides, no one is going to make a move on you. The whole fleet is talking about how you took a psychotic ape as a husband. You're a scary woman now."

Hanala eyed Rala. She looked nervous at the reference she made to Joachim Hoch. Not without a solid reason, Joachim freaked right out at Rala for letting Hanala drink in a wounded state. He went so far as to question her personal competence. Cal had not been afraid to state clearly that if he had ever saw Joachim Hoch he would kick his ass for treating Rala with disrespect.

While she may have thought that the sentiment was sweet; Hanala did not have the heart to tell him that his wife's depiction of Joachim as a miniature krogan was not far off from the truth. Inciting Joachim was just about the worst thing one could do. With any luck Cal would be smart enough to recognize that should the two of them ever be in the same room.

The beeping of her omni-tool made her frown. She turned away from Rala and activated the device. As the view screen came to life, Hanala frowned as she found herself looking into the last face she wanted to see at the moment. Staring back at her was none other than Admiral Halid'Zorah. The same Halid'Zorah who had been suspended since Vaerhit, Falan and her Father met to discuss a punitive action to be taken against the man who frequently stepped out of bounds.

Thanks to Hanala, he had been spared being disbarred from the board. Hanala did that with a great reluctance. In the end while he might have moved like a bastard, he was a bastard that they needed on his side. For now a shorter leash on him would have to do.

The shorter leash would be her. The Admiralty assigned her as his oversight. She would be responsible overseeing all of Halid'Zorah's future affairs. She would be unlikely to stop a lot of what he did, but she did have the authority to report her findings back to the rest of the Board. In other words, she was a professional informant. It was a title she would wear proudly if it kept Zorah from abusing his powers again.

"Admiral Jarva," the suspended Admiral started. "I was hoping we could have a moment to talk. Could we have a moment alone?"

Hanala glanced back to Rala, who was the target of Zorah's polite dismissal. Rala started to leave until Hanala reached out and took her hand, keeping her friend in place. She turned back to Halid and shook her head.

"I would prefer she stay since you are intruding on my personal time. This is a surprise, you're calling me by my title," Hanala spoke, her voice low and thick with sarcasm.

To his credit, Zorah did not take the bait. He remained perfectly still as he waited for Hanala's expression of distaste turn slowly into a neutral expression.

"I hope that you don't think that apologizing will bring about an ending of your suspension any sooner," Hanala spoke up, deciding to remind the Admiral that she was in full support of his suspension.

Although he may have laughed, there was no humour in Halid'Zorah as he stared back at her.

 _"No, it will not, nor is this my apology. Apologies should be meaningful, so I have nothing to apologize to you for. This is conversation is a personal choice,"_ Zorah agreed with the glaring young woman. _"The only reason I am here speaking to you is out of professional respect and curiosity. Your Father told me that the only thing stopping my expulsion from the Board has been by your words. You saved my career. Why?"_

Hanala did not reply. Yes she certainly had saved Halid'Zorah from a career implosion caused by the absolute rage that her Father was capable of having. Alaan'Jarva went out of his way to give the former naval intelligence operative a seat on the Board. To have him break every ethical standard in the pursuit for cleaning the German image was something that drove him to nearly expelling the man from his position.

The former spy looked at her like she was some sort of freak. He did not seem capable of comprehending why she did what she did. Why she cooled her Father's temper, why she appealed to Vaerhit and reminded the heavily Rommel influenced Falan into staying their execution of his legacy.

 _"Why would you do such a foolish thing?"_ he verbalized, his tone rather lost sounding. _"Why would you not have simply forced my expulsion? A few months ago you tried this and you were far less even tempered."_

Hanala remained perfectly still, she felt Rala squeeze her hand comfortingly.

"I now know that I am nothing like you Halid'Zorah. I don't purposely screw over people to get ahead; even you. The Prince came to me, not the other way around," Hanala returned as soon as she found her voice. "I thought I could do that, or be that ambitious… but that's just not me..."

Hanala trailed off as she silently looked for the right words to use. She did not want to give this bastard her praise. He had a big enough ego without her stroking it.

"It also helps that you still have a lot of value. I don't agree with just about everything you have done on a moral standing. Rationally, however… I cannot deny that most of your actions have been to the benefit of Germans and us," Hanala pressed on, her voice remaining neutral, but firm. "You have done a lot of damage control to do when my Grandmother foolishly ignored the thousand little things the National Socialists were doing that cumulated into an extermination program. I cannot ignore this."

It was sick to comprehend. Perhaps Hanala tried to push all blame far away from her deceased Grandmother, but perhaps her fears were true. Grandmother Jalina was far too hasty and cut far too many corners in her advocating of contacting the National Socialist regime. She spent a decade watching Germans from afar. Surely she knew something was happening…

 _"You cannot blame her for being blind. Jalina'Calis was an old woman who led our people into the exile and spent the rest of her life filled with the big dream about returning to Rannoch with a grand army at our backs,"_ Zorah reminded Hanala, who nodded. _"When she discovered humanity, when she discovered Germans, she was inclined to overlook the small things. Those matters would be solved when we took a direct hand in the matter. She was right; for the most part the problems have been rectified. Like I, she lived with the concept that the ends justified the mean-"_

"She didn't live long enough to see how wrong she was to do that, but you don't have that excuse," Hanala cut him off. "So the ends justify putting Joachim in a position where he had to choose between his morality and the lives of innocent children and the misguided? Do you not see how _wrong_ that it is?"

Halid did not blink. He did not react in any way.

 _"Your affection places Joachim Hoch far above his actual worth. In the grand scheme of things, he is nothing but a footnote. If you want to degrade yourself further by defending the honour of a National Socialist, then by all means,"_ he retorted as though he had said nothing offensive to her. _"But it is as I said before: A chance at peace, whether at the expense of Hoch's personal code, or the lives of several children, it was a shot I was willing to take. I will give you no apology for that."_

Hanala sat there, gaping at the sheer nerve of Halid'Zorah for saying what he had said about Joachim. She stared at him blankly, for the first she was at a loss of words. Still Zorah remained cold and aloof. It was clear now that Zorah was done with the concept of manners when it involved her. She had made an enemy and there was nothing short of her demise that would change that.

"Is that why those human children are here?"

Hanala looked back to the source. It was Rala; she was staring widely as she digested the real reason as to why Magda Goebbels and her children were on the fleet. Hanala nodded and smiled slightly as Rala looked at her strangely as the full weight of the implication. Joachim Hoch, the psychotic ape man was perhaps not as frightening as she first got from their encounter.

The door slid open and in stepped Cal'Navora. He was swaying; a drink in a plastic cup was in his hand. He looked from his pensive wife, to Hanala, and then to Zorah staring at him through the omni-tool virtual monitor.

"Ah…Your shuttle has arrived," he managed to get out.

Hanala nodded and turned back to Halid'Zorah.

"Look, I have to go," Hanala simpered, her voice trying to edge out the anger brewing in the pit of her stomach. "Is this all you needed to say, or are you here to try to sweet talk me into a loosening my new grip on you, because that's not happening. Acting like you know best is not charming in the slightest."

Again, the former intelligence operative shook his head.

 _"Of course not, that would be the last thing I would want,"_ Zorah returned, his mouth forming a polite smile. _"You see there is another reason why I have called. You see, I have a warning to issue to you: If you so much as move against any of my assets while I'm suspended, I am going to make the rest of your life unbearable, I guarantee that Tau'azie."_

Behind Hanala, she heard Rala gasp as though Hanala had been physically assaulted by Zorah. Zorah's kind look gave a terrible contrast by the word he used to describe the woman. Hanala turned back to Rala and silently requested for her to calm down. Cal, who was still in the doorway took a hold of his wife and pulled her back from Hanala.

As soon as Rala was in her husband's arms, Hanala turned back to the image of Zorah on her wrist. Hanala remained unmoved by the threat the Admiral had issued. Instead her mouth curved into an expression of awful contempt. She was not going to take the insult without showing Halid'Zorah that she was as troublesome just as he assumed she would be. It was decided then and there by her that when everything settled down, she was going to allow her Joachim a chance to tear this fuck apart.

"Too late now, you manipulative bastard. I was going to keep my attention solely on the Prince, but not anymore," Hanala warned him, her voice full with mocking belittlement. "Guess which bitch Tau'azie already has Manstein and Guderian eating out of the palm of her hand? Now if you'll excuse me, I have a couple of your old assets to meet with."

Hanala relished in the narrowing of Zorah's eyes at the mention of the two Prussians that were slowly starting to take her seriously even though she was a woman. They had been exceptionally hard to recruit to his side, let alone participate in the revolution. Prussian ethics demanded a loyalty to the government they went to war with. It must have taken Zorah a long time before they broke their ethical standards. So for him to simply lose their support in a matter of weeks, it had to have been devastating.

Slowly Hanala leaned in and smiled awfully at the silently furious Admiral.

"Your move, asshole..." she challenged.

With that said Hanala closed the link and collapsed onto her bed, groaning in annoyed anger. To say she was frustrated and wanting terribly to kill the bastard would be an understatement. She felt the mattress push down next her. Sitting next to her was Rala. She looked utterly disturbed and like Hanala was close to a breakdown for what Halid had said out loud. It did not bother Hanala, she was numbed to it.

"What a _bosh'tet_ ," Rala murmured to her old friend. "I cannot believe that bastard actually could have said such a thing to you."

Hanala pulled herself back up and shrugged.

"I do, it's the sort of thing comes with being an Illegal birth," she replied casually as she stood back up and flattened her dress out. Kissing Rala on the cheek, she added. "You two go and have some fun. I'll be back in an hour or so."

Leaving Rala's side and clasping her hand briefly on Cal's bicep as he moved out other way, she left. She was now committed on taking as much power out of Zorah's hands as she possibly could. And if his threat was true, and she had no reason not to believe a promise made by him, she would go out of her way to destroy him.

That was her promise.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

This was beyond what he wanted to endure.

Usually the vessel was abandoned with an exception to an engineering crew. They left him alone when he was on board. This was no longer the case. He found himself surrounded by brightly coloured quarian men and women gathered around in the docking bay of the _Bismarck_. They had been dancing and drinking until the pressurized doors opened and out came him. His expression of disgust was a far contrast to the apparent joy that the quarians here were having.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Joachim turned away from the stares coming from the gathering. Between the alcohol and the novelty of the new species that they never saw before standing there in front of them, they had to have been curious. At least they were not stupid enough to approach him. The crisp, freshly cleaned and pressed uniform and the stern expression he wore, it probably told them he was likely not in the mood to have a conversation with them about humanity.

He curled his lip as he tried to drown out the electronic hissing that the quarians called music. It was utter shit. How these advanced aliens could stand the blaring noise they called music was beyond his comprehension. He would have to be trashed to listen to it. He could only hope that Hanala's bedroom was soundproof. He just wanted to collapse and sleep.

 _"So… you're human? Nod your head if you can understand."_

The question came from a young sounding male. Joachim did not reply as he continued to smoke, blowing smoke out of his nose and mouth. There was chattering and laughter in Khellish. The group was apparently pushing the young sounding quarian. He took another drag as the boy approached him once again.

 _"You're one of those soldiers in the German State right? My teacher was saying we're working with you,"_ he inquired, a little too condescending sounding to Joachim. _"That's pretty interesting… have you killed anyone?"_

He trailed off as Joachim audibly unbuttoned his holster and removed his Walther. He held the sidearm limply at his side. Although probably more primitive then they were used to, they knew what it was judging from how quickly the quarians went dead silent at the nonverbal threat Joachim posed. It wasn't serious; he just wanted nothing to do with them

"Joachim?"

Joachim turned around as he heard the only voice that mattered to him call his name in disbelief. Sure enough there stood Hanala. She was in a dress and looked like she was made up for the celebration like the others. She was making a point to ignore the crowd, who turned into passer-by's as they moved deeper into the ship, leaving behind the quarian boy who was staring frightfully up at Joachim. She remained perfectly still as she held her eyes on him as though she feared what may happen if she were to blink.

As the crowd parted, Hanala stepped tentatively forward several steps. Her worried expression broke into a wide grin as she bolted at him. He barely had enough time to holster his weapon before he had the short quarian pounce on him like one of those Panthers. He chuckled as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. Her lips collided with his for a moment before she pulled herself back.

"Joachim what are you doing here!" she cried out. She paused and looked at the gaping young quarian man, her eyes narrowed as she growled and nearly cried out: "Beat it, you little bosh'tet, or I'll tell your parents you snuck off your ship to drink here!"

That was all it took to make the boy bolt in the direction of his friends, leaving Hanala and Joachim alone to laugh at him. As soon as he was gone, Hanala slid down off of him, and brought his head down to her level so that she could continue what she started. He had to admit that he missed this."

He pulled back, her teeth still latched onto his bottom lip. He offered her a faint smile as she pressed her forehead against his chest. She was standing on the tips of her toes.

"I have seventy-two hours off until we begin the offensive to the Baltic Sea," Joachim spoke as he allowed his hand to run in circles over her spine. "I figured that I might as well spend them here…"

He paused for a moment. He was being a little too presumptuous. There was still a good chance that she would only want him around for a few hours…

"I mean… if you'd be fine with that," he continued once again; his voice forcing to stay neutral as he added. "I would not want to potentially harm Saleb by being here. You know, I might just freak out and beat her senseless."

Hanala pulled back and looked up at him sternly. One hand pulled away from him. He expected a smack or something for sounding like a snide asshole. Instead her hand reached up and pulled his cap off his head. Still frowning at him, she put it on, straightened it out as she saw him do a thousand times, and then touched her hand against his cheek.

"Please don't be like that, Joachim, That's not necessary," Hanala spoke softly as her frown reformed into a pretty smile. "Of course you're allowed to be here. You're _always_ allowed to stay here."

Slightly humbled by her sweet reaction, Joachim nodded and allowed Hanala to escape his grip. She did not leave her close proximity with him, but she did turn around and use him as a leaning post, her hands grabbing his and forced them to hold her close. The music came back to his focus once again. It was like a vernal disease for the ear.

"What's going on here?" he asked her, his voice growing low. "Why are you listening to the death rattles of cars and trucks?"

Hanala did not reply at first. She remained leaning on him for a little while longer before she turned back and looked up at him. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes as her mouth curled into a smile.

"So basically my original plan was to have a small get together with friends and colleagues. My friend Rala'Navore got wind and decided that I was too young to throwing dinner parties. Instead, her and her husband organized a rave for as many people as possible," Hanala informed him lightly, her hands playing with his. "We'll drink, we'll dance, we'll celebrate our final days on this goddamn fleet and, most importantly, we'll have fun. This is our night off. Everything but being with other people is permitted. You still belong to _me_ , Joachim Hoch."

She allowed herself to revert back to a state of silence as pure seduction rolled off her. Rarely was Hanala publically possessive. She inhaled sharply as Joachim trailed one finger down the front of her neck to just above her breast line.

"So the question is this now: when I get back from my meeting; is my loveable, if a little backwards, boyfriend going to ruin this evening by acting like a complete bosh'tet because he has forgotten that he is 25 and in the prime of his life?" she breathed softly, her hooded eyes looking up into his. "Or is he going to drop his guard, let go for one evening and remember that he is still a young man."

She paused for a moment as she leaned in to kiss his mouth.

So, Joachim… what is it going to be?" she reiterated slyly as she tugged herself back, her hands gripping his jacket tightly. "Are you going to be my date in an afternoon, evening and morning of sex, booze, drugs and degeneracy, or are you going to keep that stick tightly wedged up your ass?"

Hanala continued to stare up at him. She awaited her answer with a great anticipation. Silently, Joachim stepped back from her. Her eye brow arched as she watched as Joachim dug into his jacket pocket. He removed his bottle of Pertivin and shook it at Hanala. This was his test, his way to call her bluff. She had a real problem with him using, even if they were now a medical prescribed anti-depressants.

She stared at the pills for a good long moment before she turned back to Joachim. Her mouth curved even wider as she nodded. Joachim could not help but laugh as he opened the pill bottle and took three tablets out. She did not protest, she did not redact her words. She stood there waiting for him to do it.

"You're going to be the death of me, Hanala'Jarva," he predicted as he swallowed the amphetamine tablets.

Hanala was right. How much harm would night of forgetting cause?

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, angst extermination, plot rearrangement.**

 **Forgot how much of a bastard Kaltenbrunner was, and this subplot of a rave. Guess I really wanted to jump Joachim well over his head.**


	13. 72 Hours Part 2

**Chapter Thirteen: 72 Hours: Part Two**

 **…**

Dalad'Voar could not have hated himself more at this moment.

He felt disgusted as he looked down at himself and pulled at the uniform he was forced to wear by his captors. While as glad he was finally now out of his rags, he felt sick the moment Skorzeny came in with a grey uniform and informed him that he had been conscripted into the Waffen-SS for the duration of his time with Skorzeny's mission. He was now officially an Obersturmführer, which was roughly the rank that he held in service to the Fleet.

Of course, rank and uniform did not grant him freedom in the slightest. He still wore chains on his ankles –for his own protection according to Skorzeny- and still he lived inside of a cell. However, while he may not have been free, it had been days since he was allowed to sleep properly and be returned back to the rations he received during his first days of captivity, back when he thought that Skorzeny saved his life out of good grace.

There was trade-offs, of course. Since the day he made his deal with Skorzeny he found himself teaching Skorzeny the theory of space flight and atmospheric re-entry; he taught him all he knew about how to operate mass accelerator rifles and kinetic shielding. Now Dalad was expected to teach the men Skorzeny handpicked for his attack. He tried to tell Adrian von Fölkersam that this mission was absolutely insane. Adrian agreed with him, but Adrian knew how fanatic Skorzeny was in the defense of his Führer.

Swallowing as he realized he was betraying everything he swore to protect, Dalad stood up and walked unsteadily to the door. Standing in front of it, the quarian knocked three times on the steel barrier. The eye level slide opened and staring into his eyes were narrowed brown coloured eyes.

"I am ready," he managed to get out without a stutter.

The slide closed and the sound of the door unlocking made Dalad step back as the door groaned open. The sentry stared at him for a good long moment before he slung his primitive looking assault rifle and stepped forward into the cell. Dalad held up his hands and silently allowed the human to unlock the metal cuffs off his wrists and ankles.

Standing back up, the sentry tilted his head to the door. Nodding, Dalad silently left the cell and entered the hallway where three more sentries stood, their rifles in hands. Dalad ignored them as he always did and continued down the hall. His jailer was only a few feet behind him, his rifle drawn as he followed the quarian. Devoid of thoughts, Dalad continued down the concrete hall and up the stairs that led outdoors.

It took a moment to adjust to the bright sunlight that greeted him. As soon as he looked away from the sky he turned and found none other than Adrian von Fölkersam approaching him. Like Dalad, he too was looking healthy, and his bruising was healing up. He stopped in front of Dalad. His point stare to the guard told the sentry to leave Dalad in his charge. The sentry turned and left, leaving Adrian and Dalad alone.

"Flight Lieutenant Voar, you're looking a lot better," Adrian greeted the quarian, his voice formal. "I'm glad that you came to your senses. He's just beginning."

Together Adrian and Dalad walked down the dirt path in silence, they walked through a check point, past a German tank, dug in for an attack what was not coming. As they continued down the pass, the guilty pang caused by his betrayal grew more and more. It wasn't before it started making him lag behind Fölkersam, who noticed immediately. He came to a stop and turned around. His hand fell onto Dalad's shoulder.

"This is so wrong, Adrian. He _has_ to be stopped," Dalad spoke to the only friend he had now. "You have to convince him how _terrible_ this idea is. He's going to get a lot of people killed. There is no such thing as a strictly military ship on the fleet. Unless we are in a state of total war, then all ships are utilized as homes for civilians. People are going to _die_ …"

Fölkersam's grip on his shoulder tightened. He carefully rocked the quarian back and forth, if only to get him back to reality.

"I know, Dalad; but at this point you're only tormenting yourself into believing there is a choice," Adrian softly warned Dalad, his voice was filled to the brim with empathy for Dalad's fears. "When Skorzeny commits to something… it's impossible to sway him, especially when his ego is on the line."

He went silent and took a step away from the barrack that they were moving to. Adrian prevented the quarian from stepping back again. He leaned in close and stared up into the slightly taller quarian in distress.

"None of it is your fault, Dalad. You have a family you need to think about. Being a Father and husband comes before your duty to the fleet," he reminded Dalad as he wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "Just remember that collaboration has its own rewards. You see, while stubborn, Skorzeny is not unreasonable. If you fully cooperate as though you serve under him, the more likely he is willing to adhere to your advice as he would to any other subordinate he considers vital. Work with him fully and likelihood of less blood being spilled will go up."

Dalad looked back to Adrian, who smiled reassuringly. Perhaps… perhaps Adrian had been correct. If he showed his worth to the commando preparing an attack against his people, then perhaps Skorzeny would see that while his problems with quarians were legitimate, he would also see that he could no longer paint all quarians with the same brush. Surely Skorzeny was not unreasonable.

They fell silent as they reached the barracks. Each of them handed their clearance papers to the sentries standing guard. Needlessly patting down Dalad for weapons, and taking Adrian's pistol from him, the two of them were pushed inside of the barrack, the door slamming shut behind them.

Standing there in the centre of the small barrack was Otto Skorzeny. Surrounding Otto Skorzeny was about thirty to thirty five men. Tables were set up and filled with environmental suits and mass acceleration based assault rifles, concussion charges less than lethal area denial grenades, omni-tools. All the equipment that the Germans had picked off the corpses of the dead in the Vienna surprise attack had been brought here for the commandos to use.

The soldiers around Skorzeny looked in the direction of Adrian and Dalad as they entered the mission planning centre. Their expressions collectively hardened as they narrowed their focus on Dalad. They all looked like chained varren, just waiting to be let off the leash.

This was happening… this was _really_ happening. Primitive humans were about to turn the weapons of advanced space fairing race on their former masters. Worse still he was going to have to help them. They did not have to succeed in their mission. All they had to do was infiltrate the fleet –something that had never once occurred- in order to score a huge psychological victory over his people.

"Settle down men," the baritone of Otto Skorzeny rumbled to the men, forcing them to turn away from the two newcomers. "Adrian and Dalad, take a seat."

As Adrian and Dalad listened to the mission leader; the commando team also sat down, leaving Skorzeny the last man standing. He looked on all of his men sternly.

"Now that you are aware of the grave threat posed to us stationed behind the moon and reaching all the way to Mars, you have been gathered here for a singular purpose," Skorzeny spoke up, addressing the soldiers. "As you are all aware of, on February 6th, an operation was committed by Heinz Guderian at the Kehlsteinhaus. It was reported that Adolf Hitler had been assassinated in the surprise attack by a sole assailant who made sure that he had been killed in the assault. This attack sparked the war we now fight against the rebel factions in the Wehrmacht."

The men grumbled at the mention of the attack.

"What you do not know that an earlier operation, several hours before the attack had commenced, the assailant who was believed to have assassinated the Führer did not, in fact, kill him," Skorzeny pressed on, his folded over his chest. "The Führer instead was abducted and is currently being held with the alien menace that has backed the rebels for an inevitable show trial and execution. With the Führer out of the way and made into a monster, they plan on turning the Fatherland into a slave army to be deployed at their leisure. This cannot stand uncontested. Not while we, still breathe! Certainly not while our Führer lives!"

Waving an omni-tool to the group, Skorzeny activated the view screen. From a feed from what appeared to have been a holding a human in a jumpsuit provided to prisoners on his bunk. He did not appear particularly impressive, but the commando team that suddenly exploded in unmitigated rage at the sight of their Führer languishing in a quarian holding facility.

"This was taken only a day ago by a quarian asset that the Reichsführer has. He is being held by quarians on the vessel Kareon on the far side of the moon, only one of two ships stationed that close," Skorzeny continued as he closed the feed and turned back to face his men. "Quarian arrogance has not increased his protection. They do not believe that we are capable of extending our hand and taking him from them. In a month and a half we shall prove them frighteningly wrong."

It took all of his efforts not to launch himself out of his seat and demand Skorzeny to tell him just was the quarian feeding him information. As it turned out, he was not alone in betraying his race to the National Socialists. He was also stopped by Adrian, who gave him a stern look. He instead watched as Skorzeny glided his hand over the screen and appearing before them was the full schematics of the Kareon. Judging from all the routes that had been saved, Skorzeny had been reading the files for quite some time.

"First up, squad one under Otto Gunsche shall secure the landing bay and protect our escape route. We on top of the quarian armaments we have, we will also bring with us three MG-42's and five thousand rounds of ammunition" Skorzeny spoke, his finger tapping the landing bay.

An audible groan came from the man Dalad presumed was Gunsche.

"Gunsche," Skorzeny turned back and added. "This may seem like a babysitting role, but do not underestimate how important it is for us to have an escape route. Otherwise we are all fucked, understood?"

Although he still did not like it, the giant named Gunsche nodded. He clearly understood the value of the one escape they had.

"Next up are squads two and three under Braunbeck and Litjens. You both shall run diversionary ops against ship security," Skorzeny continued, glancing between two men, presumably the heads of the two squads. "Your goals will be to make your way to the command bridge. Do not try to take the bridge if it is too heavily guarded. Your primary objective is to scare the ship leadership into sending as many of their security detail to the bridge to stop the ship from being potentially hijacked. Damage the deck if possible and knock the _Kareon_ out if possible."

"Understood," was echoed by the two men that Skorzeny had been speaking to. Once Dalad was feeling faint as he listened to the plan unfold.

"Which leaves my squad," Skorzeny spoke up, turning in the direct of the men Dalad presumed Skorzeny would be leading. "We will move through the _Kareon's_ ventilation system and infiltrate the Führer's holding place. When we have him secured inside of a quarian suit of his own, we'll begin our exfiltration. Teams two and three will deploy tripwire explosives, and meet us here," Skorzeny paused as he gestured to a juncture point in between the bridge and the route to the holding cells. "With the Führer in the centre we will move back to the landing bay."

Skorzeny closed the ship schematics and turned around one rotation so that each and every man could look at him in the eyes.

"I know that some of you may be wondering why not wait until the Führer is on the ground before we attack. That is a reasonable query, battling them where we know is infinitely safer," Skorzeny pressed on, his voice growing louder. "My answer to your unspoken question is this: theatre. Behind their technological superiority, quarians are as human as us. They make mistakes; they are just easily awed as we are. If we pull this off, they will begin to doubt the home they were promised by their leaders. They will wonder if this action is just the first act against them, and they will be right. It will be the first and not the last time should they try to settle on our planet!"

Each of his men broke out in a celebratory cry. Dalad was growing more and more uncomfortable with the direction this was going. Now Skorzeny was talking about hitting quarians whenever their guard was down. It would foster mistrust between the two races. That was how Skorzeny and whoever he was working with would win. They could not defeat the quarians by force, but to destabilize their efforts in maintaining a relationship with their human hosts and make it impossible to begin the war on Rannoch would be an ultimate victory against the race they considered intruders.

"As tricky as this may be, our most dangerous foe will be the Admirals likely stationed on this ship. They will know what is happening the moment we step off the transport ship," the commando leader rumbled as he closed the omni-tool and the cheers died down. "Fortunately these men and women will likely be a part of the first responders when they assume that Heinrich Müller has been captured as we will make them believe. You will neutralize the Admirals if they are there. Whatever the case, they and their families are all marked for termination no matter what happens in the future as per Reichsführer's directive."

Skorzeny trailed off and glanced over in Dalad's direction before turning back to face his men. He most certainly had noticed the expression of horror that was present as he listened to the order condemning the Admiralty in much the same fashion that his family would have been had he not broken down and agreed to help.

"Now that I have said that, I have a different order to follow instead of our beloved Reichsführer's wonderful belief that killing the Admirals on top of freeing the Führer would be a marvellous idea with no repercussions," Skorzeny continued, he voice mocking. "We will instead subdue the present admirals as hostage if they are there and bring them with us. It decreases the likelihood of them trying to intercept us midflight on our way back to Earth."

There was a low rumbling amongst the men. Killing the Admirals would have been much easier to do. Dalad watched helplessly as Skorzeny moved through his men and pulled one of the flash grenades off the table. He lifted it over his head to show the men.

"You will use these or your fists to bring them down, or wound them if you must," Skorzeny permitted as he went back to his original place. "If we cannot locate the Admirals, you will take non-combatants in their place; preferably women and children. As I said before, fundamentally the quarians have the same sensibilities to us. If anything children are their most valued resources."

Dalad dropped his head into his hands. He willed himself not to cry as he listened to Skorzeny's horrifying plans grow more and more cold hearted.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

She came dressed for what she assumed had been a formal dinner party. Magda Goebbels could not believe she was forced to endure this torture.

She had even been granted access to cook for herself in place of the bland quarian interpretation of human cuisine. She must have been quite the sight. Donning a Christian Dior dress she managed to convince a quarian team to pick up along with a few things for the children at her home on Schwanenwerder. She wanted to make a splash amongst the guests Hanala would have invited. Instead her friend turned the party into an abomination and now here she was gliding through the crowds of screaming, dancing, and heavily intoxicated aliens. All of whom appeared to be as young as Hanala was, younger even! It was despicable!

Brooding as her ears rung as though they were going through a bombing campaign, Magda pushed through the crowds of aliens. For the most part they always widened their eyes as they realized one of the natives of Earth was moving in between them. She dodged their questions asked occasionally filtered into her translation device, but for the most part in their native language. She turned her focus on retrieving her cigarettes. It was a habit she had taking back up now that the Führer was languishing in a prison cell.

What she would give to be in his presence at this moment. She would have gladly endured one of his long, rambling stories about his time in the Great War, or when he was struggling in Vienna and Munich. They were stories that the Führer rehearsed long before he told them, stories that lasted hours and hours. At this point they were infinitely better now in hindsight. He would have a stroke if he had to watch what appeared to have been two quarian men making out like she was enduring at the moment.

The two men broke apart and looked into the narrowed eyes of Magda Goebbels. Inhaling her cigarette hard, she exhaled the smoke just as hard into their face and pushed through them. Hanala told her that the smoke was dangerous to quarian lungs. Good, she hoped those degenerates coughed up their lungs.

Pulling her flask from her purse and glaring daggers at several women looking at her curiously as she stopped next to them, she unscrewed the lid and drank heavily. She might have as well left now. An opportunity now wasted, she might as well returned back to the _Kareon_ and spent the day doing what she usually did dote on all her children and try to forget a time when Magda Goebbels was the leading socialite of National Socialist Germany. That was all done now. She would never have that prestige back again.

Perhaps when everything was over, she would be able to convince her first husband to allow her to resume using the name Quandt, if only for a symbolic purposes. Goebbels would forever taint her and her children.

The chirping of the quarian language surrounded her again. The girls were wide eyed as they got up much too close for her comfort. Quarians were far too social for their own good. There was a right way and a wrong way to interact and so far only Hanala'Jarva seemed to know the difference. Hanala's Mother was also alright, but that was because like Magda, she had stone cold bitch bred into her.

The moment one of the girls touched her hair, Magda's hand flew out and smacked the girl across the mouth. The girl in question cried out, her friends gasped at the sudden violence offered up by the older woman. She was about to smack her again when a hand caught hers midway to the young woman. Low, rumbling alien tongue came behind her. The girls eyes widened and they spoke back to the voice. Shooting a dirty look at Magda, they left.

 _"I see Hanala trapped you into this party as well."_

The statement made Magda turn around, forcing her hand out of the grip. His eyebrow was arched at the fellow human standing there. It was the silver tongued bastard who deceived her into coming to the fleet. The bastard who got her husband killed, kidnapped the Führer and instigated the brutal Civil War across Germany.

It was that son of a whore, Joachim Hoch.

Donning the unbuttoned uniform of the Heer, Joachim dropped his hand to the side. Her eyes flickered to where he was supposed to have been missing his arm. As Hanala told her, he had an artificial arm fused to flesh and bone. It was little wonder why he always wore gloves now. Magda took a step back, her cigarette back in her mouth as she stared contemptuously at him.

As a sudden high pitched beat emitted from the source of the music, Magda turned her scowl to the jubilant quarians.

"They celebrate while our world burns, and they have the ability to end it," Magda spoke to the giant man behind her. "How dare they dance and act like they deserve a place on our planet?"

There was a brief moment of silence from him.

"They're homeless, and they don't know the full extent of what's happening," Hoch's almost growling voice spoke behind her. "Give them tonight to celebrate and be optimistic about their future. It won't be long until they realize how fucking miserable Earth actually is."

Magda turned back to Joachim, who stood there motionless. Magda's mouth formed a half smile. For a singular moment, Magda was reminded why she was attracted to the traitor all those months ago. He was one of those rare, brutally honest realists. He wasn't afraid to shatter ignorant or optimists illusions. Having spent over eleven years married to a professional deception artist, and just as long surrounded by yes men to the Führer, Joachim Hoch was a breath of fresh air.

"You're a right cynical bastard, aren't you?" Magda directed to him, her voice a little more playful now. She took a step towards him and added. "You know, I should hate you right about now. However given that we're both being exposed to noise torture, I'll forget our issues for the moment."

As she stepped back to him, she watched as he dug his hand into his pant pocket. Expecting the chain smoking Oberst to retrieve his cigarettes, she was surprised when he pulled a small bottle of pills out instead. He held the bottle out to her, which she took, the word Pertivin was on the label. She peered up to Hoch, who shrugged.

"Take two of those. It's starting to make the music bearable for me," he informed her as he gestured her to follow him. "Come on, I left a cache of liquor on this ship. It'll give you something to do while the amphetamine kicks in… if you want them of course."

Deciding that she wanted nothing better than to dull the throbbing ache caused by the music, Magda opened the bottle and took two as directed, swallowing the pills and polishing it off with her flask of schnapps. She handed the pills back, and the flask as Joachim had shared with her. He took both and sipped conservatively before handing it back to her.

Silently she followed his lead.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"Do we have an estimation of security personal stationed on this ship?"_

 _"How short is their response time?"_

 _"What about security? They are advanced; perhaps they have some sort of machine security."_

 _"How quick can the rest of the fleet send reinforcements to the Kareon?"_

The gathering of the commando team turned quickly into a question and answer period. The men asked Skorzeny about all that he knew on the quarian question. It came to a real shock to Dalad just how much Skorzeny had up all the pieces together. Skorzeny knew more than Dalad knew about the intentions his people then he did. Perhaps he was just inferring, but even if he had been it sounded very much like the Admiral's doing.

Next to him sat Adrian; his hat was tilted over his eyes as he apparently was trying to catch a nap. Adrian, who was apparently considered a shorter Otto Skorzeny with a quarter of his ego, would be sitting out of the operation. Dalad believed Adrian when he said that he did not support the raid. That said, orders were orders and they had to be carried out.

"What sort of civilian presence will be on board? Should we not check our fire?"

The scraping of his chair turned Skorzeny's attention away from his men and turned to focus on the only quarian in the room. As Skorzeny looked to him, so did every commando, again looking at him like he was the enemy.

"I presume you have something to object?" Skorzeny inquired pointedly.

Dalad shuffled in place as the men around Skorzeny laughed openly. He glanced back to Adrian, who remained perfectly still, his hat no long over his face. He had warned the quarian about taking this position as an agitator. Dalad could not care less. It was one thing to attack the fleet, now they were talking about acceptable civilian casualties and taking children as hostages! He could not stand by any of that!

Although he felt strongly about the topic, the moment Otto Skorzeny pushed through the gathering of men and joined Dalad and Adrian he found himself feeling small again. It was like he was back in his cell getting his face beaten in by Skorzeny. He had to supress that lingering fear of his. Adrian had been right; he had a lot of room to bargain with. He knew it and so did Skorzeny.

"This… this isn't what I _agreed_ to," Dalad informed the staring krogan in a human form, his tone whispering. "Taking you back to Earth… kidnapping Admirals and children… This cannot be you."

The annoyance in Skorzeny's eyes flickered out. Much to Dalad's surprise, the man was not angry. If anything it appeared that for the first time since he met Otto Skorzeny, Skorzeny appeared to be conflicted when he had his amendment to the plan thrown back into his face by the quarian. Glancing to Adrian, Dalad noticed that Adrian was studying Skorzeny just as carefully.

Briefly glancing back to his men, who were discussing the mission amongst themselves, Skorzeny closed the gap between the two men sitting at the sideline.

"You and I both know I cannot pilot the ship in the short timeframe we have. Theory is pointless without application and the timeframe is too tight for practice. I'll need you to pilot us back," was his response, terse, but respectful as he admitted his shortcomings. Noticing Dalad was not pacified, he added. "With hostages as valuable as the Admirals, or as innocent as children, You, I and the Führer are guaranteed a return trip. We'll even provide you with the means of returning to the fleet…"

Skorzeny trailed off. Although he spoke the words, he appeared to hold little belief in him. Dalad remained silent. He knew better than to break the giant human out of his reflection. Perhaps he was seeing the inherent ugliness of what he was willing to do for a leader that would not have done the same for him if the tables had been turned.

"It's a dirty trick to take children and I would not use it under any circumstances, but this change ensures our lives… your life being spared," he reiterated, more to himself then to Dalad. "Sometimes a sacrifice in one's own morality is required. Some men are incapable of that, and that sort of weakness has to be stamped out. For the Führer's sake, I cannot be one of those forgiving men."

Glancing to Adrian, who appeared somewhat surprised that Skorzeny was speaking like he needed to reassure himself, Dalad turned back to the commando leader. Perhaps there was still some hope to stop this. Adrian was right, Skorzeny was not as unreasonable or cold hearted as he appeared. In this light he appeared extremely conflicted.

"I get you think that you're doing the right thing, Herr Skorzeny. It's admirable to have that sort of loyalty to a leader. Whoever this Hitler is, he must have done something right amongst all the wrongs the Admirals suspect him of doing," Dalad spoke slowly to the brooding human. "But your men are already talking about _killing_ civilians, and you and I know that something is seriously wrong with that..."

Skorzeny snapped his head back up and glared malevolently at Dalad, making the quarian take a step back from his former tormentor. His rage was directed towards himself.

"Talking and doing are two separate matters entirely," Skorzeny hissed at his prisoner. "My men are all battle seasoned professionals. They will not kill freely unless I order it. I don't intend on ordering it, but I am going up there with the intention of maximizing as much fear as I can inflict. Quarians have to die. _Lots_ of them have to die… And it has to be me who does it. They already fear me for what I did to them in Vienna. I have to make it clear to them that it wasn't a fluke. There is no other choice."

Dalad's confidence returned, he took a step forward and back into arm's length of Skorzeny.

"You always have a choice," Dalad assured the man staring at him. "I have a better alternative to this violence: Cancel the operation and face _reality_. Even with your leader back on earth… you know it will not last long. 17 million quarians have been promised a home in this solar system, and on this planet. You can't stop something that has been set into motion months ago…"

Dalad trailed off to see if his words would anger his abductor; they did not.

"When we land, how soon do you think they will begin tracking Hitler down again?" Dalad pressed on, inquiring to the silent Skorzeny. "Days… perhaps weeks? When we arrive, Earth is going to be a much smaller place then you think it is. It'll be a world where you can't hide for long. All these deaths… they will be for nothing other than an empty gesture to a man who's already dead."

The statement was blatant; it was as confrontational as Dalad could make it without making the man resort to violence in an effort to silence Dalad. Skorzeny needed to see the truth. His noble effort was only to cause suffering and end lives. He had to see reason for everyone's sake. Skorzeny remained silent as he held his eyes on Dalad, trying to find a bluff. There was no lie, Dalad had nothing to lie about and Skorzeny knew it.

The Waffen-SS man turned his attention to Adrian von Fölkersam. He was still dead set on not getting involved with this argument. Not when Skorzeny likely still held the threat of killing his wife and child over his head.

"Do you feel the same way Adrian?" Otto demanded from Adrian. "Is the alien making sense to you? I want your honesty."

Looking between the quarian and his superior, Adrian sighed and sat up straight. Slowly he hunched back over and looked into his lap.

"With all due respect, Herr Skorzeny, he's not wrong in his argument," Adrian spoke slowly, each word considered carefully. "The raid will be frightening, and if fear is what you want, then that is what you will get… that said, it will still not be war, but it will be terrorism, and it won't change the reality. Our fate was decided months ago. I think we're fighting the inevitable now."

His piece said, Adrian returned back to a state of indifference. Dalad could not have been more proud of his friend. He had voiced his opinion to Skorzeny in the face of great potential for personal loss. His words were like a bomb. Skorzeny stepped back and sneered at the two of them.

The expression did not last for long. It was quickly replaced by his great personal doubts. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Perhaps you are right…" Skorzeny murmured. "Perhaps it is futile that I fight the inevitable."

The man looked back to his men. It wasn't long after that before Skorzeny turned back around, his eyes hardened as he stared at the two men suggesting that they abandon his plan. He turned his full glare to Adrian von Fölkersam.

"When I swore my allegiance to the Führer, I promised to hold the oath until my last breath, or until his," Skorzeny reminded Adrian, his voice and resolve returning to its original state of firm control. "As he is alive and I am alive, I shall remain in his service. I shall not be _another_ Judas to him. Not when I can still do _something_."

All debate now concluded Skorzeny reached out and wrapped his arm around Dalad's shoulder, making the quarian leap in sudden recoil. It was the old fear of Skorzeny resurfacing. Before he knew it he was being led back to the chatting commandos. They ended their whispered conversations as they noticed their boss was back and with the quarian in hand.

"Men, this is Flight Lieutenant Dalad'Voar," Skorzeny informed the men. All traces of his doubt carefully masked back up with sheer confidence. "He is our special liaison of sorts. He will be training us the usage of quarian technologies over the coming weeks. He will serve as our pilot to our target and for our escape. He is a member of our team, and Günsche, his life is protected with yours."

The man named Günsche stood up. He was eve taller than Skorzeny. Günsche offered a broad smile to him, before turning back to his leader. Skorzeny in return looked to Dalad.

"Would you care to begin, Flight Lieutenant?" Skorzeny inquired with surprising politeness.

Looking to Skorzeny for a moment, Dalad slowly nodded and set himself on the task of training a team to terrorize the fleet.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Perhaps he had his uses.

With Joachim Hoch as her new battering ram/bodyguard, the quarians moved out of her path real quick and very few dared to look in the direction of her now that the lumbering army officer was escorting her and pushing the more rambunctious males out of her way.

It was not long before Magda and Joachim were at last free from the crowds. They made it through the last of the compacted aliens and entered the mostly emptied corridor leading down to Hanala's bedroom. There was the occasional quarian, but they were either sprawled on the floor drunk with a friend making sure they were okay, or it was couples making out. Either way neither groups noticed them brush by them.

Joachim slowed down somewhat, shortened his long strides until he was standing side by side with her. Magda did not mind. She had enough liquor to supress her anger at the man for his deceptive nature.

"So," Joachim spoke up after the long silence. "I take it you're pretty pissed that I took you off planet."

Magda remained silent as tried not to seethe openly at his statement. She did not reply as the two of them entered Hanala's room. She could not help but be slightly surprised by how… girly it had been. Dresses and outfits of human and quarian design were scattered everywhere, bottles of what appeared to have been makeup were on every flat surface.

Unfazed by the surprisingly feminine side to Hanala'Jarva, Joachim dropped to his knees and reached underneath the bed. Sure enough there was an open plastic box filed with bottles. He stood back up opened the closet. There was a slight wince as he pulled out clothing that wasn't a uniform. Whoever had taught Hanala fashion had done well. Black slacks, a white long sleeved shirt, a Prussian blue cardigan and even high end Blucher's.

While Magda might have approved, the curling of Joachim's mouth told her that he was far less enthused by the choice.

"Jesus Christ," Joachim breathed to himself. "Is she trying to make me look like a _faggot_?"

Groaning, because he obviously had no other choice, He started working his uniform off his body. He did not seem to care that Magda had been behind him, nearly laughing at the remark he made. She took a long drag as she watched his dress shirt come off, exposing his flesh to her. At first she focused on the almost mesmerizing way that flesh had been merged with steel. Her focus turned to the trailing of scars along his back.

Magda's good humour vanished as she frowned at the sight. They were whipping scars. She may not have seen any physical abuse herself, but she knew many boys and girls who had the same markings. It certainly started to explain his behaviour.

"I did not plan to do that… take you and the children, I mean; hate me all you like, but please trust me when I say that the quarians who were in charge of the operation didn't have your best interests at hand until I made you my business," Joachim spoke again as he stripped down, leaving himself completely naked. "They were going to let you and the children die... if I didn't do what I did, you would have lost a lot more than that asshole husband of yours."

Magda remained silent for a good moment as she swallowed the statement. While she was unaware, she could not say that she had been surprised by Joachim's statement. Joachim was a professional with very little to lose. Something must have happened that made him deviate from his plans.

"I did not know that," Magda stiffly admitted. "I suspected, but that was it."

His new briefs and slacks now on, Joachim turned back to face her. His expression angry, but it was not an anger directed to her.

"No, I imagine they wouldn't want you to know that in the long run you and five children were expendable in the pursuit for a peaceful resolution," Joachim retorted as he grabbed his new shirt. "Just about every quarian I know who had my _interests_ in mind has fucked me over in one way or another. Why should you have it any different?"

Magda remained silent as the brooding man pulled on his shirt. Silently she stepped forward and putting the buttons in place on his behalf. He stood there silent as he looked over her head.

"Even Hanala?" she dared herself to whisper to Hoch.

Hoch gave off sort of a grunt.

"Especially Hanala," he repeated without much of a pause.

Magda arched her brow at him as she moved her hands to fix his collar. She just knew that Hanala was a slippery woman, but to use that on someone that Magda knew she loved? That just seemed… low. And Magda Goebbels had become a certified expert on low during her marriage to Joseph.

"So why do you continue to see her?" She asked a little louder this time as she stepped back from him. "Why do you love her in the first place? You two are far too different. Surely there are a one or two women you have back in the Reich."

It was Joachim's turn to stare. He looked at her wearily before he reached onto the bed and grabbed the cardigan.

"Why do you care?" he muttered to himself.

Magda glided away she leaned against the wall near the doorway. Her arms crossed as she scanned the man as he pulled on the light cardigan.

"So far she has been the only quarian who doesn't look at me as a nuisance, or as a specimen to be studied," she softly admitted to the man, her mouth forming a smile as she thought about her strange young friend. "I think she has been better to me in the few months that I've known her than anyone in my life that I've known for years… with a possible exception being the Speer's."

His cardigan now buttoned, He pulled an amber bottle out of his cache and placed his pistol belt in the crate, his foot kicking it back underneath his bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed he shared with Hanala and worked on his socks and shoes.

"So in return for treating me well, I will do her a favour and make sure that her new role as a Mother isn't compromised by a man who's locked on a suicide course against far too many dangerous men than he can fight on his own," Magda continued her explanation. Her words making Joachim look up directly to her. Unfazed by the glint of anger in his eyes, she added. "She may believe otherwise, but one look at you from an uncompromised observation, and I can see that no matter what you may say to her, it's still up in the air. Death is still something you crave, and it's going to tear that girl apart, and no empty platitudes are going to be enough to keep her from total collapse, and she is reaching the point far quicker than you understand."

His shoes now on, Joachim was once again looking at her.

"I promised her that I would survive-"

 _"Promises mean nothing to you or I, Joachim Hoch!"_ she snapped as she pushed herself off the wall. "We are _far_ less different then you realize. We had shit childhoods with distant parents and a whole heap of empty promises they gave us. We were bred to be disappointed. Disappointment is the one constant we have. We may have our good moments, but we know how quickly they end."

Staring at her in silence, Joachim refused to refute any point she had made. Magda took a seat next to the man, she both hated and slightly fancied. She sighed as she went for another cigarette. As she lit herself up, Joachim quickly followed suit, transferring his cigarette case from his uniform trousers to his civilian clothing.

"Hanala, on the other hand, has a family that loves her, who adores her, and they taught her that those that she places her love in will always, _ALWAYS_ put her and family at the forefront," Magda pressed on as she finished French exhaling. "So when she asked you to make a promise, she expects it to be kept. She doesn't understand the meaning of disappointment like we do. She can be a right cynical bitch like us, but it's a shield. She's still innocent and listening to her cry whenever she thinks she's alone pretty much confirms my suspicions…"

The moment she breathed those words, she saw the colour start to drain from Joachim's face. His eyes widened as he looked at her without that impassive expression he was wearing only moments prior. Magda tilted her head at the reaction. Apparently Joachim was quite aware of just how Hanala was doing.

 _"She cries?"_ he breathed, his eyes searching hers.

Any rumbling he might have had for the woman he cared for was gone. Joachim's expression was a look long foreign to her, especially from a man like him.

It was actual concern.

"Oh yes, she can put up a real tough façade. She learned it from you I bet. But she is absolutely terrified for you scared for you," Magda confirmed, she voice steady as she watched Joachim look on her with dread. "She spends untold hours talking to psychologists about you, asks about doctors to every German she is in contact with. From me to that Admiral Canaris. She devotes herself finding you help when she needs it just as much as you –more so perhaps. She's the one raising her Brother and Sister-in-law's child. Something she blames herself for…"

Magda had to admire her ability to choose her words. Joachim looked absolutely devastated by each syllable she formed. Joachim Hoch had needed a reality check, and Hanala'Jarva was too prideful to tell him that she was in just as much pain as he was.

As she watched his eyes start to water, she slid a little closer, her hand taking his.

"Even that child of her suspects," she revealed to the horrified man. "She asked me why Hanala was crying in secret, this is the same little girl who's scared of me… that says something…"

"She never hinted…"

"Of course she never hinted at it, and for two reasons," Magda retorted as continued to smoke. "First she doesn't think you need this burden of knowledge. Second, she jumps around her problems like a minefield. She focuses on everything but herself –keeping busy is the key to suppression."

Tapping the ash on her cigarette off, she noticed the ashes building up on Joachim's as well. Clearly having no intention on smoking it, Magda took it from him and stubbed it out with her fingertips.

"This party was going to be a small, intimate affair; that was the only reason I had agreed to come in the first place," she continued, looking away from the man at long last. "I suppose that she was afraid that she might have a moment to dwell, she allowed her deviant little friend to throw this huge impersonal night where she could get intoxicated and have one more night where she did not need to remember."

Lifted her dress slightly up, she crossed one leg over the other as she leaned backwards into the bed. She silently gazed at Joachim.

"So… if you're making promises to her, then for Christ's sake keep them," Magda concluded. "She needs you alive and there for her, just as you need her."

Joachim broke his distant stare and turned to Magda. He nodded frantically. She had scared him into surviving this war. Perhaps there was hope yet for this man.

"I… I might make a deal-" Joachim started when a sudden exuberant voice cried out:

 _"Magda! Joachim! How are you two lovers doing? I can only hope that you're not going to wreck my bedroom! Seriously, I don't need sex sweat and shame wrecking my room!"_

Magda looked up, so did Joachim. Standing there in the doorway was Hanala'Jarva. Swaying back and forth, she wore a goofy grin on her face as she looked at the two humans. Magda could not help but notice a tingeing of jealousy in her words. It was clear that Hanala was not quite okay with what happened between Joachim and her as she tried to give off.

As the old saying went: _In vino veritas._

The mixture of drugs and alcohol had also affected Joachim as well. His well-honed self-restraint was weakened. He launched himself up and wrapped his arms right around the significantly smaller quarian woman. Hanala screeched as she found herself lifted a foot off the ground. Her eyes were wide as she looked to Magda briefly before wrapping one arm around him, her other hand reaching up to brush playfully in his hair.

"W…what are you doing?!" she slurred slightly in Joachim's arms. "I mean… I'm an hour late. Not dead, you daft fool!"

Joachim did not respond. He simply continued to hold her tight in his arms. It took all her effort but Hanala managed to wiggle out of the vice grip he held her in. She smiled brightly as she stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. Taking the hint, Joachim brought her close again, but this time decided not to look as though he was trying to kill her with a hug.

Magda remained silent, watching the display of affection between the two intoxicated lovers. It was kind of… well… sweet considering that these two were so completely different ascetically. She did not find quarians particular nice looking, but this was just… _sweet_.

"We were having a lovely conversation," Magda informed the quarian woman in order to expel any jealousy Hanala may have still held "Joachim and I are trying to make amends. You are our mutual interest…"

Joachim froze up slightly, a lingering after effect from what Magda had told him. Nonetheless he did break the hug from Hanala, much to Hanala's relief.

"That's… that's _great_ to hear!" she returned happily before looking to Joachim, her thin brow wiggled slightly as she smirked at Joachim.

"Hey there, gorgeous," Hanala shamelessly hit on her companion, her hand patting his chest. "I knew you would look great in that. Human clothing is so ancient. I tried to see if I could make you look a little more ahead of your time. Pretty much expect me to control how you dress from now on when you are outside of your uniform. When we were living together, you looked like such a _Jal'oI_."

She paused as her words lingered off into Khellish.

"Uhhh…" she stumbled. "I think _geek_ is the closest word you have to what I was trying to say… what-fucking-ever, changing the topic."

Joachim, who had complained about making him dress like a homosexual or worse… _French_ … could only offer her a faint smile as he pecked her forehead.

"You can dress me however you'd like," Joachim promised her. "You won't get a complaint out of me."

Hanala bounced happily on the tip of her toes as her arms flew out to wrap around his neck. It appeared to Magda that Joachim was such a contrarian bastard that small victories for Hanala had been rare for her to win so easily.

"That's _sooo_ sweet!" Hanala exclaimed as she pulled her lips off his. She giggled wildly as she leaned in and with a faux whisper. "So listen… _listen_ … Joachim _listennnn_ ….basically I got really, really, really trashed on the flight back so that I would be caught up. I need to go and dance and I think you need to help me… Interested?"

Likely the last thing he wanted to do prior to Magda's little information spill, Joachim nodded as though he had been ordered to lead a one man charge across enemy lines. Hanala's smile brightened even more. She turned to Magda.

"Can you believe this?!" She exclaimed excitedly to her older friend. "I think Joachim has lost his mind! He's being receptive to something new! Come on Magda, you're coming as well!"

Smirking slightly, Magda inclined her head and took the bottles that Joachim had left on the bed. She supposed she could try and have a little fun. Especially now that she returned Hanala's kindness with a kindness of her own. When the two of them sobered up, she had little doubt that Hanala would be finally getting the attention she needed from the man whose attention she needed the most.

Of course, this was presuming that the two didn't kill each other trying to work things out.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Climbing out of the passenger seat of the captured American light reconnaissance truck known as a Willys MB ' _Jeep_ ''. Admiral Halid'Zorah dug his feet into the sand and leaned over to scoop a handful up.

This had been his first time in the North African desert that would soon be annexed by his people. He wasn't sure why he had taken this long to do this, but it validated everything he committed to over the past fifteen Earth months he dedicated to bringing about a means to take this land with minimal casualties sustained on his people. It was something that would likely never be known. He could live with the scorn he was receiving as of late.

The clearing of a throat brought his attention back to the Hauptmann standing there by the Jeep, next to the sentry standing in the back of the vehicle manning the American heavy machine gun the vehicle came with. Although the Germans had a factory well out of range of Allied bombers, this did not mean their supply problem had been relieved. Because that was the case, it was both encouraged and expected that they utilize every supply source to military equipment the Americans and British left behind –from food to light trucks to tanks and even several American B-17 bombers that they captured refuelling in a forward operations airfield. One of the bombers was loaded into a transport and sent to Luna to be inspected and eventually mass produced should the Soviets fail to see reason.

As Zorah turned back, he found the Hauptmann's hands were behind his back as he looked on the Admiral curiously. Halid sighed as he released the handful of sand and followed the Hauptmann into the joint defended Wehrmacht and quarian marine force's 782 square kilometre perimeter set up around the ancient Prothean crash site and sat there on guard as surface structures were built around the crash site. It was not long until the complex started spanning under the surface of the planet.

It had been decided by Alaan'Jarva, Utala'Falan and himself back in February that it would be a wise course to keep the humans involved in the matter of the Prothean wreck. It was merely a conciliatory move. This was a reassurance that the quarians viewed humans as partners, rather than a project. But frankly speaking the humans were in no position to understand what was buried in these sands.

Thankfully for every quarian who may have been leery about having a human as their leader, Gotthard Heinrici was a man of considerable passive temperament for a Prussian Junker militarist, and had been relatively forward thinking. So far he seemed perfectly fine that a third of the quarian marines he commanded were women. So long as you weren't his enemy or did not wrong him, he was always willing to cooperate and compromise with someone with a superior knowledge to him. In this case, it was Kalib'Orba who was project leader. Together the two of them set up a massive military installation in the Sahara and instilled a strangely symbiotic relationship.

As they crossed through the last check point and entered the surface base, Zorah dismissed the Hauptmann and moved swiftly to the waiting Gotthard Heinrici. As Halid, the two men shook hands.

"Welcome to Sector Zero, Admiral Jarva," Heinrici greeted the Admiral. "Shall we head to the Laboratories?"

Halid nodded and followed Heinrici's lead down the winding corridor, past quarian and human guards and scientists. The sliding doors to the open topped inclined elevator, built to shuttle mining equipment from the surface to the construction areas. As they entered the lift, Heinrici waved his hand over the biometric scanner and tapped their destination.

"Next stop, five hundred sixty metres under the Earth," Heinrici informed Zorah as he turned back towards the quarian. "I try to stay on the service as much as I can. The way your people build underground facilities freaks me out, no concrete, just super hardened glass."

Zorah chuckled slightly as he stepped forward to lean against the rail. He watched silently as several levels of the facility were passed by. It was amazing to see how much construction had occurred in the past year. It was looking like the unofficial joint species facility was more developed then the settlement of Maur'Sata.

It had surprised him just how many people in laboratory gear there had been already situated here. From what he gathered, the Migrant Fleet research vessels had been emptied and were being converted into training ships for the Germans. The science community had been split up. The majority were sent to Maur'Sata, they were the publically face of quariankind's science community; the military science community was sent here to be involved in Sector Zero. This would be where all geth research and experimentation would take place once Aria T'Loak begun shipping in geth samples.

There had been another surprising thing to witness here. It had been just how many humans civilian scientists were here in Sector Zero. For the most part, they were following the quarians around like students. He had been right; humans were frightfully fast in adaptation. As he and Heinrici passed another sector, they found the opposite was true. Humans, likely anthropologists and archaeologists, were teaching quarians what they knew. These were two sciences that had died when the geth exterminated their people.

The elevator came to a stop. The two of them stepped out of the lift. The first thing that caught his attention was the steel door clamped down tight, like it had been unused in a long time. Above the door was a huge screen. On it was four different human languages and then Khellish.

 _ **Prothean wreckage access -1.3 kilometres**_

 _ **WARNING: PROTHEAN DREADNOUGHT ACCESS ROUTE IS OFF LIMITS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE AS DIRECTED BY PROJECT LEADER KALIB'ORBA AND GENERALOBERST GOTTHARD HEINRICI! EXTERNAL LESS THAN LETHAL PACIFICATION DEFENSES AND INTERNAL SENTRY GUNS ARE ONLINE.**_

Halid turned back to Heinrici, who gestured to down the advent corridor. Together the two of them walked down the sterile looking route, past more guards, through a sterilizer beam and into one of the labs marked as Laboratory 17: Forensic Studies and Xenobiology.

Devoid of any quarian or human scientists, Zorah and Heinrici were alone once again to look around. The Laboratory had been divided into three sections by see thru glass walls. The section Zorah and Heinrici were in was the observation research deck. Well used in deed judging from the build-up of garbage.

The second part of the lab was filled with an assortment of human skeletons found inside and around the Dreadnought. Some were simply naked bones; others were still in some sort of primitive decayed armour… Romans Legionaries as they were referred to. The most interesting corpses were several heavily altered bodies. Skeletal like the others, they were literally coated in cybernetics.

The third part of the room was in shadows. At least it had been. Heinrici activated the lights, revealing four heavily augmented insectoid's standing there with all their many eyes directed to the quarian, whose mouth was suddenly agape. While at first glance they were staring at Halid, it became quickly clear that the creatures were not staring at him. They were staring past him. None of them appeared to be able to move despite no restraints were holding them. To him, they looked as lifeless as an inactive geth platform.

"What are _these_?" Halid breathed, looking over to Heinrici as though he had all the answers.

Heinrici returned the curiosity with a shrug of his shoulders and a slight grunt.

"Unfortunately, the lack of response coming from Generaloberst Heinrici is indeed speaking for all of us."

Turning around, Halid found the head of the project, Kalib'Orba. He was an older man, roughly the age of the Generaloberst. He looked utterly wearied as he stopped in front of the holding cell containing the strange creatures. Strange pity for the empty looking creatures he and the team had apparently captured. His fingers clicked against the glass before he turned back to face Halid once again.

"All that we know for certain is that these creatures are not a natural species. They were most certainly engineered by the Protheans who controlled this ship," Kalib told his benefactor he did know. "The modifications are beyond anything I have ever seen before. They appear to be genderless, heavily modified with cybernetics; they lack glands or a digestive system. There are no signs of intelligence or even self-awareness. They are nothing more than flesh drones. No more thinking and feeling then a geth in its platform."

The Doctor fell silent. Zorah looked back on the locked up creatures. His mind was furiously racing with several grievous issues he found himself having. First and foremost, he found himself wondering if the tried and tested asari stories about the Prothean nobility and benevolence was all just a crock of shit meant to delude them and the galaxy from the truth. If this was a Prothean ship, and all signs pointed to it being one, and these creatures were engineered by the ship masters of this vessel, then perhaps it was best that the Protheans had vanished. They bent flesh to do their will. Such a creation like the ones standing before him was so fundamentally wrong.

A second theory also came to mind, one that was both creepy and infinitely better than the concept of Protheans being completely amoral. He had heard stories about a mysterious insectoid race that existed somewhere out beyond the Terminus Systems. They kept to themselves and made all sorts of odd trades for advanced alien technology.

"I hate to be the one to resort to rumours, but could these possibly be Collectors?" Zorah spoke up, catching Orba's attention. "I heard stories about them in my dealings in the Terminus. They appear, and then vanish for centuries. Could they have been investigating the ship like we were and got trapped by the ancient humans? Perhaps they went into stasis pods until they were disturbed."

Although Heinrici looked curiously at the name drop of the mysterious race, the Generaloberst did not voice his curiosity. Kalib'Orba tilted his head at the Admiral and then glanced back to the creatures in the holding cell.

"I just don't know. The Earth mass relay was turned off when we found it, remember; it's impossible for anyone to turn one off. This region is technically Citadel Space and you and I both know that the Collectors do not dare cross into Citadel Space, certainly not in the middle of the Rachni War when every Citadel species was in total mobilization and shooting at every ship that was suspicious looking, not to mention we found no sign of another ship in this sector or on Earth," Kalib reminded Halid as he looked over his shoulder to him. "No… I think that these creatures -perhaps collectors- have been in this ship as long as this ship has been buried in the Earth, and that's easily between forty to fifty thousand years, who knows. These ones had to have been the ones who built the geothermic ventilation shaft that the ships AI boasted about to the first team last year."

Halid's eyes widened. An old, instinctive fear came bubbling back to the surface.

" _AI_?" he breathed "I thought it as a VI."

The project leader laughed humourlessly as he turned the lights illuminating the catatonic looking creations.

"Perhaps it once was, but it's an AI now, and it's an extremely aggressive one at that," Orba spoke plainly to the spooked Admiral. Noticing the reaction from Zorah, he added. "I mean, the ship is utterly paralyzed and locked to the planet, so it poses no threat, but it's still undoubtedly insane. It called itself _'Cataclysm'_. When it started speaking to us, we shut down all access to the wreckage."

Feeling faint at the words he was hearing, Zorah pulled himself away from his place by the creature holding cell and took a seat behind the table. He hands fell on the table and waited as Heinrici and Orba sat across from him. He should have expected this from an AI. AI's were fragile, fifty thousand years in the desert was bound to do that to a machine intelligence.

"So it is clearly insane," he finally spoke, exhaling as he laced his fingers together and looked directly to Orba, who nodded sagely. "In its Prothean master's absence, the AI lost it and took control these creatures to help sustain itself-"

 _"Just like marionettes and it did not stop with those creatures. It probably took thousands of locals slaves at one point, I'm guessing in the year 20 to 30 AD."_

The voice had lit up his translation device. Halid turned around and found a middle aged human male standing in the doorway. He was dusty, grizzled looking man, a thin moustache, his hair slicked back and checker shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his bicep. It was like he spent most of his life out in the desert.

"The only decent thing that Himmler and the Nazis did was that they recruited and sent us archaeologists and anthropologists in a bid to impress Orba into telling what this find is," Heinrici informed Zorah, he gestured to the man, tacking on. "This is Doctor Alfred Ost, Head human researcher at Project Lullaby, Ost this is Admiral Halid'Zorah."

His manners taking over, he stood from his seat and offered a faint smile and his hand to the weather beaten man. Alfred Ost stepped further into the room and shook the Admiral's hand with a little more force than Halid had expected.

" _Lullaby_ , Herr Doctor?" Zorah inquired as he dropped the handshake and took a seat back down.

"Just Dr. Ost, I'm English you see," Ost corrected, glancing back to Heinrici. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I cannot believe that being a part of the greatest find in all of human history is all thanks to being forcibly grabbed by Nazis and forced to work here…"

He trailed off as Heinrici narrowed his eyes. Ost rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously.

"Ah… Germans, not Nazis… I keep forgetting that you lot had cold feet about Nazi world domination," he amended, his eyes directed to Zorah. "Anyways, it's an honour to meet one of the Admirals, truly."

Halid inclined his head. It was hard to believe that this human was the first Non-German he would be speaking to.

"A pleasure to meet you as well, but you did not answer my question," Zorah retorted.

Ost looked at Halid in some sort of confusion. The moment Halid decided it was best to reiterate his question; Ost clued in with a smile and took a seat next to the Admiral. He did not notice the mild look of disgust flashing across Zorah's expression.

"Oh, _right_ , a rather grim joke you see," the Englishman informed the Admiral, who peered around and saw that the others knew this story all too well. "Our first excavation team went in the ship and stayed in there for days. They lost their minds. Some committed suicide, some attacked the guards, and the rest just sort of sat down and simply went into a catatonic state and eventually… well…"

Noticing the shock building up in Halid's expression, the Englishman trailed off and looked to the project leader expectantly. Orba looked from Heinrici and turned to the ashen faced Admiral.

"Only one researcher -one Francois Moiteisser - has been verbal," he admitted carefully. "All he kept saying was the ship was singing lullabies to him."

Heinrici cleared his throat, making Zorah break from his shocked state to look at him.

"We have to feed him through a gastrointestinal line," Gotthard reluctantly admitted to Halid. "He's lost the will to eat and drink… It might be better to euthanize him…"

Halid stood up and wandered off to look into the room filled with human skeletons. He could not listen to any more of this… this terrible violation. Artificial creatures, he had been expecting after reading the record provided by Hanala'Jarva and the late Martus'Xen, but an entire excavation team losing their minds… why hadn't he been told this before?

Perhaps he had been warned and the notes had been shoved aside by him as he kept his focus on the immediate National Socialist threat. Sloppy, this was extraordinarily sloppy of him. Perhaps Hanala did him a favour for growing a conscious and forcing him out of his diplomatic position for next month. It would give him time to take control of this project and oversee its return to a safe operation.

"I assume that is the real reason why you have shut down trips into the ship, and not because of an intimidating machine," Halid growled at them, his hands behind his back as he refused to look at them. "There was an impromptu team that entered the ship. From Admiral Jarva's testimony, they spent a grand total of eight to ten minutes in the vessel before the ship activated some sort of defense."

"As we have collected evidence of," Ost's voice returned, he sounded amused.

Halid's eyes paused as he noticed something peculiar. Amongst the long dried out bones was a plastic bag filled with decomposing flesh on bones, covered in what appeared to have been tatters of Wehrmacht jacket. Laying there in the room was none other than the shattered remains of Joachim Hoch's arm. It was the very same arm that was blasted off by that stupid child Hanala.

Halid cracked a grin as he supressed his desire to burst out into laughter. As he recalled, Hanala'Jarva's birthday was coming up. What better gift could Zorah find for her then the arm she blasted off her human…

"Short term exposure under fifteen minutes has appeared to be safe, but after the loss of the team, we felt it best if we kept to virtual scanning," Orba finally spoke to the Admiral, his voice tepid. "We have also have sent a mining crew about thirteen kilometer away from here digging out a mine shaft. We plan on locating this geothermic vent that the aliens on this ship built and when they find this vent, we will collapse it with explosives."

Zorah turned back to the men gathered behind him. He accepted the answer wearily. A ship this size that was dependent on a ventilation shaft that was many miles underneath the planet seemed odd. Surely it had a backup plan.

"With it gone, the ship starts bleeding power?" he asked Kalib guardedly. "Doesn't it have power reserves that the vessel can subsist on?"

It heartened Halid to see the vehement shaking of Kalib's head. Perhaps it hadn't been all bad news then.

"By the looks of it, this Catalyst AI either burned them out trying to sustain itself while its drones dug into the earth, and likely lost the majority of them trying to survive hitting the planet at a terminal velocity. This ship is hooked to the geothermic vent not unlike a piece of wired technology," Orba spoke confidently, the way he spoke did not offer much room for debate. "As soon as we pull the proverbial cord, the ship's defenses are cut; the AI will quickly lose power. The husks and the organic drones are self-sufficient, but a clean-up crew could be quickly assembled to search and destroy."

Staring at Kalib'Orba for a good, long moment to silently check his posture, to find if his body language betrayed his words, Halid finally nodded. He turned away and stared off into the darkened room before he joined Orba, Heinrici and Ost. He slumped into the seat, his hands spread out on the table. The three men looked on Zorah like he was already running the facility. Perhaps this was it. This would be his new calling. The Admiralty Board could have their squabbling of Prussians. This ship's technology would likely not be deployed for the geth war, but who knew what the future held. There were a lot of species that broke their promises to the quarian people. One day they too would have to feel the wrath of the resurgent quariankind.

"Hold off risking anymore lives," Zorah returned as he took a seat. "I'll commit to you two hundred remote controlled geth platforms in a few months' time."

Orba's eyes widened at the offer Zorah made. The Admiral ignored the sputtering gratitude the project leader gave as he opened his omni-tool and jotted down his commitment. As soon as he was done, he looked back up to the scientist.

"What about this mind warping effect?" he asked finally as he leaned back into his seat "Eventually we will need to be hands on about the project. I would prefer it done safe."

The project leader nodded gravely.

"Naturally that's our greatest concern," Kalib agreed with the Admiral. "The ship is unsurprisingly radioactive, but not dangerously so. This vessel has been here at least fifty thousand years so any radiation contamination has been significantly reduced. There are also no chemical anomalies causing this mental imbalance, so the last theory I have is the ship is doing it…"

"And when the ship is stone cold, perhaps it will cease this ability," Zorah cut in over the scientist. "The ship sings lullabies… Perhaps that is how all these Romans were lured into the vessel."

Next to him, Gotthard Heinrici predictably shifted in his seat. He, like his cousin, didn't like to hear belittlement of the sort of men they were raised to admire.

"The legionaries weren't lured, Admiral," he corrected Halid, taking off his spectacles in order to clean them. "I listened to the audio transmission your Admiral discovered. It's the language of the Romans. Roughly translated, The Commander of the Legion was saying _'Hold formations brothers, none of these monsters escape from this grave'_ ," he paused and added. "To hear a Roman legionaries speak and battle… my god. What an opportunity… Orba hypothesizes that the ship AI likely has a film footage archive as well."

"There was an actual audio recording in your possession?" Ost cut in over Heinrici, his eyes widened as he absorbed the statement. "I would love to put my Latin linguistic skills to the test."

"That is classified," Heinrici snapped at the Englishman. "My point being, they came here looking for a fight. These cultists committed ritual suicide. Their families probably told the politicians, who sent the soldiers out to investigate… strange considering this is a hundred and fifty kilometres outside of their empire. Politicians influencing the military into venturing off into reckless engagements… something's never change…"

Halid tried not to smile at the restrained annoyance that was in Heinrici's voice. Shaking his head in a fashion not similar to his Cousin Gerd, he went for his cigarettes.

"Admiral Zorah," Orba spoke up, catching Halid's attention once again. "If cutting the power ends up a best case scenario and everything goes down the way we want it to, I would still be leery about sending a exploration team in for at least ten years, just in case. Of course this is all yours and the Admiralty Board's decision, but I cannot possibly overstate the threat this mind washing indoctrination could be."

The head of the Lullaby Project went silent as he waited for the reply. It was clear he was concerned that the politician standing before him would want this project at full tilt and wanted results for the investment they were making. Perhaps Kalib thought of Zorah as a military man who wanted results to use towards the grand crusade against the geth.

In reality, Halid was thinking like the spy that he was. He could see all the wealth of knowledge they could be gain from this ship. However, for the first time in a long time, Halid found himself feeling conservative in the face of untold power. He could not bring himself to open this ship back up to full exploration until every possible sign that the ship was completely disabled. This was, in his opinion, much more dangerous than uplifting an immature species. As such, handling this power had to be done delicately.

With his position more or less decided the moment he heard about the fate of the first exploration team, Halid reckoned the position would not be hard to sell to the others once his suspension was lifted and was invited back to the board. Of course that would mean he would have to approach Hanala'Jarva and together they would have to convince the others that the vessel was not safe to exploit just yet. With any luck, Hanala would be mature enough to loosen her grip on his throat once she saw that Halid'Zorah wasn't always so bottom line in his thinking.

Exhaling, Halid stood up and pushed his chair in. The three men we about to stand up and join him when he gestured them to remain seated.

"You can have twenty years if you want. If you feel that is best, then I shall recommend it to my peers," Halid assured the project leader. "This ship could jump us ahead by centuries, but that has to be done safely. As such, I am willing to commit to safety over salvage and research for the time being, and so will the rest of the Board when I explain the situation to them."

Ignoring the request to remain sitting, Orba flew up out of his seat and reached over the table to take the Admiral's hand. Having an Admiral working with him must have been a huge relief.

"Thank you for agreeing with us," Orba finally produced. "For a moment-"

Halid chuckled as he waved off the gracious words.

"No thanks are needed. Time and patience is a very abundant resource we have. I will get you your geth platforms and controllers when we have made our presence known," the Admiral replied as he let go of his hand. "Until then, keep safe, keep out of trouble and find that geothermal vent. I don't want this ancestor damned AI getting out into the networks we start setting up. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call."

Turning away from Orba as he nodded vigorously, Halid's focus turned to the humans. Heinrici stood up first, and then the Englishman. Halid extended his hand to the Generaloberst first.

"Heinrici, always a pleasure," he said, and then directed himself to the Englishman, his hand extending out to him. "And Doctor Ost, it's a pleasure to meet you as well. I am glad to see that the Prussians aren't completely right when they say that the English are idiots with a kilometre long good luck streak. It could mean that we may see eye to eye one day."

Ost laughed nervously and then released the grip on Halid's hand. With a final curt nod, Zorah turned and left the lab. He ignored the little voice in his head telling him just how frightened he ought to have been by what he now knew. It was a concern that he did not need right now.

As he stood there in the atrium of the lowest level of Sector Zero, in the heart of Lullaby Project, waiting for the elevator to return to his level, he turned back and looked at the locked down pathway to the Prothean Dreadnaught. At this moment, the potential for long term power outweighed all of Halid'Zorah's fears. The gifts that the Protheans left behind would build a future where quarians and humans would overshadow the turian and asari old guard. The future would be there's.

One day, centuries from now, his ancestors would benefit from this technology. It would be them who would conquer this galaxy. Should the old guard stand in the way, they would have the weapons to do it.

All that they would only require would be the will to commit the act.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up**


	14. 72 Hours Part 3

**Chapter Fourteen: 72 Hours: Part Three**

 **…**

He couldn't sleep.

Joachim's eyes were wide open, staring at the pitch black ceiling of Hanala's bedroom. He had many things on his mind, but all those thoughts were fractured as his listened to Hanala. She was snoring. Her head was resting on his chest and was face down, allowing the overabundance of the saliva she produced to coat his bare chest.

Now, Hanala had always been a snorer. It was the sort of thing Joachim had gotten used to living with her, but this morning she sounded like a BF-109 idling on the tarmac, while the pilot was revving the engine in order to impress someone. While it was keeping him awake, he would never dare to admit such a thing to her in fears of her eviscerating him. He could in fact handle the snoring had it not been for his prolonged exposure to her drooling saliva, which made his exposed skin grow more and more itchy and irritated.

He tried to centre his thoughts as a means to distracting him from the ever present temptation of pushing the extremely comfortable looking woman off him with the things that Magda had told him. She had been right. Hanala seemed to be trying to find ways to sweep her problems out of view. Not once did she allow an opening that Joachim attempted to create. She always went for more drinks, more drugs, made him dance (it turned out he was a far better at that then he thought) and tried to direct his attention to fucking her; not that she was capable of that. She was lucky to have been staggering when the last partiers went to their respective ships.

Now here they were, lying in bed, Hanala too intoxicated to slur anything other than grunts, and Joachim, coming down from his Pertivin. Wide eyed with what felt like a train running straight through his head as each worry for her left him feeling sick in the pit of his stomach. Why he focused on the worst case scenarios, he could not say. Perhaps that was now engrained into his psyche now. He would forever be the moping, worry-wart. Poor Hanala, she would have a difficult time with if she wasn't careful.

The shift in thinking aside, Joachim knew that they could no longer dance around the issue any longer. He had two more days to address the matter. With any luck she would engage in the conversation. He was sure she would not want to be labelled as a hypocrite for not trusting him to help her out. They might not have been anywhere near the same level of intelligence, but Joachim did know a bit about mental trauma thanks to his experience.

His focus was torn on Hanala was torn away. A small hand that certainly didn't belong to Hanala grazed against his side, and the weight on the mattress shifted. A sudden short gasp as the person realized that Hanala wasn`t alone and the weight vanished as a thump hit the floor. Joachim rolled his head away from Hanala's and found himself staring at bright eyes that cut through the darkness of the room, only about a foot above the surface of the bed.

Joachim quirked his mouth as the small Saleb stood up backed up slowly in the darkness of the room. Her eyes were wide as she realized that the bane of her existence was lying with her aunt.

" _You don't need to be scared,_ " Joachim reassured to the child, his voice somewhat hoarse and likely adding to her being scared.

His words did not pacify her fears of him. Saleb back up and bolted straight out of the bedroom, leaving Joachim wide awake. Hanala had been understating just how nervous the girl was around him. Had he really left such a negative impression on the child that she could not be in the same room as him without her needing to flee.

Deciding he better check up on her and knowing Hanala was stone cold dead to the world, Joachim carefully eased himself out of her vice grip grasp. His hands moving to relocate her head onto his pillow. He rolled out of bed and forced his exhausted body to stand back up. Grumbling to himself as he pulled on his under shirt and his uniform trousers, he yawned as he followed Saleb's retreat with a slight stagger in his walk.

He had been under the impression that Galina or Alaan would have dropped the child off in the morning. It could not have been morning already. Checking his time and finding that it was indeed seven in the morning. Jesus Christ, it felt like they had only just crashed.

Hearing sobbing coming from the ship's galley, Joachim followed the source until he found himself looking at the two other occupants of the _Bismarck_. Saleb, who was clutching onto Galina, her face buried into her thigh.

Hanala's Mother looked up and turned her focus to Joachim standing there in the doorway. Next to Galina and Saleb stood Alaan, who was out of uniform; he looked at Joachim neutrally. He probably did not know that he had been here.

"Oberst Hoch," Hanala's Father spoke up. "This is a pleasant surprise."

Taking one look at the father's demeanour was all it took for Joachim to know that was a lie.

"Likewise Admiral… Galina," Joachim spoke up, shifting in place as he looked from Alaan and into Galina's displeased expression. He was the last person she wanted to see was standing in front of her and she wasn't afraid to make that clear to him.

As expected, Galina did not return the greeting. She remained standing solid as though she was anticipating Joachim losing his calm and going after the child and her husband would allow it to happen. This was getting ridiculous and judging from the expression on Alaan's face as he noticed his wife's behaviour, he felt the exact same way. Joachim would never have harmed the girl. Sure, he got mad at her and in her presence once or twice, but never did words evolve into anything more.

Rubbing his eyes Joachim cleared his throat. He figured he had better break the ice. He took a step forward and ignored the blatant display of fear from the small child. She moved right behind Galina. Sighing, he paused and looked back to Galina and Alaan once again.

"She must have gotten scared when she was trying to crawl into Hanala's bed," Joachim informed Alaan and the fiercely protective Grandmother, who was plotting his murder with her eyes. "It would have shocked me as well, but I assure you it was just a scare… may I?"

Galina looked down to the child, and then to Joachim again. A hand fell onto her shoulder, belonging to Alaan, who eyed her with an exacerbated expression. Joachim was thankful that at least one of them wasn't fucked in the head. He seemed to understand where he was coming from. At the very least he was willing to take a chance on him.

Her anger somewhat diminished by her husband's silent scolding, with great care Galina pulled Saleb away from her so that Joachim could have a proper look at her. Nodding to her in acknowledgement, Joachim exhaled and recalled a time when he served as a pseudo older sibling to the Langer children. He was going to have his work cut out rebuilding anything between Saleb and him. If Hanala was telling the trust and indeed wanted him to help her raise Saleb, then he would have his work cut out for him.

"Hello Saleb," Joachim greeted the girl. "Do you normally like to sleep with Hanala?"

The girl didn't speak, she didn't look at him. She refused to acknowledge his presence. Looking from the child, to Galina, who looked a little bothered by her granddaughter's refusal to acknowledge his existence, Joachim pulled himself back up straight. He was in no mood to battle a child for her affections. He was far too hung over and sleep deprived. He would figure that out later.

"Well go on then," Joachim murmured to the child. "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you when she's awake… just don't wake her… I can't guarantee…

Joachim couldn't finish his humorous quip about Hanala being a terrifying creature if awaken from her sleep. The child simply glared at him and left, leaving Joachim stunned by her blatant display of dislike for him. Jesus Christ… he must have really raddled her at one point.

Alaan rubbed the back of his neck. He was completely aware of the child's behaviour. At least he looked a little bothered by it.

"Thank you for that, Joachim," Alaan spoke on behalf of Saleb. "I am certain she appreciates it-"

"She's not usually this standoffish with others; although we both know there are special circumstances," Galina cut off her husband from his train of thought. "I'll make up a couch if Hanala's party guests didn't vomit on it."

Galina left the kitchen area, leaving Joachim and Alaan in an awkward silence. It was clear to him that Alaan was somewhat uncomfortable with his daughter seeing him. Joachim could not blame him for that. Still, it was a decision that was out of both of their hands. God knows he tried to end things with her, only to get the offer turned down by the stubborn woman.

The Admiral nodded his head, a silent gesture for Joachim to follow him. Joachim obliged the older man and silently the two of them followed down Galina's pathway to presumably wherever she stored blankets and pillows. The two kept a casual pace, making a wide gap between them. After several moments Alaan finally looked to Joachim and offered a half smile.

"You'll be in for a surprise when you return to Germany," he informed the Oberst almost jovially. "Utala'Falan decided you are in need of a treat for your work. Your work at the Ruhr has many men whispering your name. Some are talking about you becoming a Generalmajor once you finish your advance to Kiel. Play your cards straight and Falan will go to the right people about a promotion."

"That's nice of her."

Undeterred by Joachim's plain lack of enthusiasm, Alaan pressed onwards.

"What do you know about Flettner Fl 282?"

Joachim could only offer him a quizzical look. Alaan closed the gap somewhat and activated his omni-tool. An odd looking vehicle sitting in the quarian factory was there. It appeared to be propelled by giant rotors. They looked like toys to him. Alaan, on the other hand, looked on the vehicle eagerly. What possible military application could it have?

"It's a light helicopter designed for anti-submarine hunting for the Kriegsmarine," Alaan explained the vehicle to him. "Utala took the design, sent it to the manufacturing plants and started training Luftwaffe pilots in the art of rotor flight and combat. The crafts themselves have been modified for artillery observation and light air support. A week from now you'll be receiving thirty pilots and their crafts under your command."

Joachim turned away from the image of the reconnaissance aircraft and turned back to Alaan, who turned off his omni-tool.

"And what are going to happen to those pilots and fancy little machines when the Loyalists take their anti-aircraft guns, and start pointing them in the air at them like they are supposed to do?" Joachim found himself unable to resist asking.

The excited smile on Alaan's face vanished as he met Joachim's stare. He seemed to have forgotten that the new helicopters had made the short range anti-aircraft weapon repurposed for attacking soft skinned land vehicles relevant in an era where flak weapons were becoming obsolete. Alaan, however, was not up for taking Joachim's pissy attitude more than he had to.

"You think we'd keep the original open cockpit concept?" Alaan asked incredulously. "That one is the model sent to us by the Wehrmacht, the one we're building is larger, better protected and armed. As per standard operating procedure, Quarian manufacturing of German equipment is to give the impression that you built it."

Joachim rubbed the bridge of his nose. He came to a stop as they entered the trash strewn heart of the party that died down hours ago. Already in there was Galina, making the touch up into an improvised bed on his behalf.

"You know what would be really useful?" Joachim had to point out, his annoyance getting the better of him. "If instead of shipping me more soldiers to die, you instead send me those drones you have for spying on humans like your own personal formicarium?"

Not waiting for the standard excuse, or the curiosity as to what a formicarium was, Joachim pressed on.

"If you have them for spying capabilities, you most certainly developed them with offensive capability as well. If not, arm them," he continued on, neither caring that his voice was rising, or that Galina had turned around to look at him like he was diseased. Undeterred he added, "You send them out and start striking on key men leading the loyalists. That would certainly expedite the end of the conflict. Hell, while you're at it, send out drones after that fat bastard Churchill, crippled, psychopathic Stalin, and that flat out crippled hypocrite Roosevelt. Christ, why stop there? Take out the Italians, the Chinese and the Japanese. Fuck it, even the Swiss for all I care. Kill everyone and secure the peace we need."

Joachim paused his rather violent sounding rant and looked back to Alaan who was staring at him wide eyed. He rubbed his eyes and audibly groaned to signify not to take what he said too seriously. It was just as he figured; he was far too exhausted to deal with military matters. He knew he was right, but he knew he wouldn't get to win this argument.

"But that would be too much interfering, right?"

Alaan inclined his head. He was trying not to smile at the sheer frustration. His hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"I get how frustrated you are. If it were up to me, I would have begun orbital bombardment of every country involved in the war and force the war to an end about two months into our first contact," Alaan informed the staring human.  
"However, I am obliged to defer to my colleagues democratic decision not to launch an all-out pacification of this planet. But no, apparently we need be good neighbours."

Hoch had to admit that he had to respect the hardline position. In war, only the militarists seemed to have a clear head, and it appeared to have been universal. Still he was somewhat sickened by the deference to a vote. Good leadership took decisive act. Good government was proactive.

"You know what a good neighbour does? A good neighbour goes out of his way to help out a neighbour when their home is on fire," Alaan pressed on his metaphor. "That's all this war is: a house fire on a planetary scale. Should I get ostracized for taking the position that doing a little damage could avert major catastrophe? We could have stopped much of the extermination program before it got kicked into action if we went in hard and fast. But no, we needed a bunch of Prussian assholes to bless our every move."

Wincing in understanding, Joachim looked away from the embittered quarian Admiral. As far as he could see, Prussian Junkers were good men at the core, but had far too bloated egos and difficult to move around. While he might have been a real mean cunt, Halid'Zorah's behaviour made sense when in context with his dealings with the Junker elite and Aristocrats. He had to do a lot of ass kissing and dirty work on their behalf in order to have secured all those loyalties.

" _Democracy_ , what good has democracy ever done for anyone?" Joachim spoke finally, half sardonic, half stating his genuine hatred for the democratic process. "Look at what Council democracy did to your people. They vote in favour of helping you, the turians dissent threaten to take their ships back, another vote is casted, and not only do you lose support, you're booted out for a technicality. Democracy was always weak and more often than not, it caves in the moment personal risk is involved."

Allowing what he said to sink into the Admiral, Joachim took a deep breath and then an exhale. He stepped forward to Alaan, who was looking on Joachim wearily. Although a militarist, Alaan was still someone adherent to a belief in accountability. Joachim on the other hand clearly lost all his faith in all forms of civilian government.

"Forget the Board, Admiral Jarva," he continued, forcing his voice to soften. "You should do what is right, not what is popular."

Turning away from Alaan, who was still busy digesting what Joachim needed to say. He now focused on Galina, who had finished setting up the couch and was looking like she was cleaning up the living room. The very last thing he wanted was his 72 hours being interrupted any further by Galina'Jarva's clear and present hatred of him

"And _you_ , what are you doing? You look like you're settling in and intend on waiting until Hanala wakes up," Joachim interrogated the older woman "So what, you're going to stay here now that the violently unstable human is nearby?"

Realizing that Joachim and Galina were on the verge of starting a war of words against each other, Alaan looked up and glared in his wife's direction.

"No, of course she's not-"

"Are you going to try to defend your behaviour with Saleb in the past?" Galina interrupted her husband, her voice just as agitated by Joachim as Joachim was of her.

Ignoring Alaan attempting to keep him in one place, Joachim stepped forward to stare down Galina. He was not in the mood to give leniency to a woman who had been battling against him the moment she found out that her daughter was seeing him. Perhaps there was a time when he wanted to impress, and perhaps there would be a time when everything settled down and things between them could start to be patched up and move forward, but at that very moment Joachim did not want to deal with her shit.

"Galina, I couldn't give less of a _fuck_ about what a child is thinks of me," He informed the grandparents ignoring their scandalized expressions at his blunt disregard for Saleb's feelings. "Both of you and I have other more pressing matters at the moment then a scared girl, and I am going to take a wild guess and assume you know that Hanala hasn't gotten any help after what happened to Rael and Veyare. That she has dived head first into every possible distraction so that she didn't remember."

Judging from the lack of response, his hypothesis was somewhere close to being correct. He could not believe that they hadn't wanted to recognize the problem, and even if they did they sure weren't being proactive about helping Hanala work through these issues of hers.

Galina turned away from Joachim. It was clear that her patience was growing thin.

"I ask this query because everyone I know is poking and prodding me to see if I'm still damaged, to see if I'm fit to be around that child, even though it has become quite clear that I'm not the only one with issues around here," Joachim reminded Galina plainly. "It's hypocrisy and you know it, Galina. You are supposed to be better than that. Reaching grandparenthood is not an excuse to overlook something as obvious as Hanala's inability to address the awful things she had to see and do."

Rolling her eyes, Galina activated her omni-tool and started scrolling idly. She was bored by the conversation. Or so she was making it appear to be.

"The situation is different," she murmured, clearly struggling to remain in control of her tone.

"How so?" he demanded to know, his voice rising once again. "From where I stand I see a woman in clear denial. I found her cradling her brother and sister-in-law. I… I listened to her scream. How is it that what is wrong with me is any different than that of her? _**LOOK AT ME!"**_

He did not mean to explode, but it was enough to make Galina jump right out of her seat. Looking at him briefly, she turned back to Alaan, who remained utterly neutral. Joachim took a step forward

"You don't have to _like_ me or _agree_ ; you can be as pissed as you want with me; but you will treat me with the same _basic respect_ I am treating you," he warned her, his voice emulating his old combat instructor. "Now you will answer my question: What is the difference?"

Closing her omni-tool, Galina turned back to face Joachim. Her eyes were dulled, dead looking. Expressionless, she simply stared at him. Slowly her mouth curled up into an expression of rage.

"The _difference_ is that Hanala is Saleb's family. You are _not_. You will _never_ be our family even if she stays with you; and you will certainly _never_ understand the culture of quarian child rearing," Galina snarled, her posture poised for a physical fight between them. "Saleb is the first and foremost concern of _hers_ now. If you had a family you might have understand the concept of being selfless. But low and behold, you're quite possibly the most _**selfish**_ creature I have ever seen. You staked your pride and honour before the lives of others and you got everyone you ever loved _killed_ for it. You arrogance _**KILLEED**_ my son! Your inaction _**KILLED**_ my daughter-in-law, and you _ruined_ Hanala forever! Your choices have left you alone, and with no real attachments; and yet here you stand, having the GALL say you know better than I!"

Joachim blinked at the comment. Galina's words were not immediately retracted; she did not seem to acknowledge what she dared to say to him. There was no apology on the tip of her tongue, every one standing in the living room knew exactly the full weight behind those words had been.

At that point, the only reason he hadn't smacked her on the mouth was out of respect to Hanala and to Alaan, who stared at his wife just as taken aback as Joachim was. He had every reason not to like Gerald, and by extension the family, but even he could acknowledge how offended Joachim was.

Swallowing his rage, he stepped back from Hanala's parents, his mouth forming a sneer. For now he would forget the personal offenses.

He could still remember that day like it was yesterday, well the beginning of it anyway. He sort of blanked out after Gerald and Heinrich turned on him. He could still remember seeing Hanala covered in both of Saleb's parent's blood. He could still remember watching her scream out her sobs as she cradled their bodies like she could bring them back.

Focusing back on the two older quarians, both of them still grieving for their son and daughter-in-law, Joachim decided they didn't need to hear that from him. Not right now at least.

"Let me put this into something you can understand: Hanala is as _fucked_ in the head as I am, but unlike me, not one of you seems to want to acknowledge it; and why exactly... to spare a child from the truth about her guardian state of mind?" Joachim's growl pressed on, watching the two parents flinch. "Children are meant to be scarred, meant to see how ugly and imperfect life can get. Being coddled is a weakness; being shielded and bubbled is a weakness."

Joachim snorted, the only reason he was going for his cigarettes was out of respect to the two of them and the child. Instead he slumped down onto the couch and looked up at the two of them incredulously.

"You… your husband, and Hanala…" he snapped at the two of them. "Stop pretending you're walking on a minefield when you're around that child and convince Hanala to find help of her own, because I know I can't be the only who tries. The only ones I know for sure who she'll listen to are the two of you."

Galina stood from her seat on the edge of the couch. Her hands were still connected together. She continued to look on Joachim suspiciously.

"I don't deny she needs help, but she needs to get to that on her own schedule, not by our own force. She has a child to care for now. Saleb-"

"Tell me Galina," Joachim cut her off. "Will Saleb come first when she wakes up and finds that Hanala has blown her brains out?"

Any indignant annoyance the woman may have held for the Joachim had vanished. Galina stared fearfully at him as though Hanala had already gone and done the act. Alaan, on the other hand, appeared far less concerned as his wife had been. Joachim just knew that Alaan knew the sort of game that he was playing.

It was like a dam bursting. She did not have to say anything, but Joachim knew that Galina would now be on her daughter's case the next time they were in each other's company. With an obvious sob she left in the direction of the shuttle bay, leaving Joachim alone with Alaan.

Watching as his wife left, Joachim could swear that there was a hint that the Admiral wanted to smile and flat out laugh. He managed to supress all trace of it as he turned back to Joachim, his expression turning into a look of resignation. Joachim shuffled in place. He likely caused Alaan a huge headache. Women loved to blow things out of proportion, but in this case it was something he needed to happen.

"Well thank you for that exhilarating, half inebriated display of your persuasion skills on my wife," Alaan started up as he stepped forward to join the man who screwed him over. "I still have to ride back home with her; all she'll do now for the next week is obsess over Hanala. You've basically ruined Hanala and my life for the foreseeable future."

Placing his hands into his trouser pockets, Joachim offered Alaan a half grin as he shrugged idly. Groaning, Alaan sat down on the opposite end of the couch and grabbed three quarters emptied bottle of whatever quarians drank and took a drink to keep him relatively docile.

"It's exactly what I wanted to happen; I will not apologize for doing the right thing," Joachim informed Hanala's Father guardedly. "I can't make Hanala do anything, but if I apply pressure on her, just like she's done to me it might just be enough."

Alaan raised his eyebrow at the young shit disturber.

"I was always under the impression that the man dating a woman went out of his way to do right by her parents. It's sort of a concept our races seem to share," Alaan reminded the smirking human. "Telling my wife that Hanala was going to paint her bedroom with her brains is not helpful for me, and certainly not for you."

Once again Joachim only shrugged. He could not care less about hurting anyone's feelings at the moment.

"The way I figure it, by the time Hanala realizes that I sent her Mother on the war path I'll be back on Earth and it'll give her time to cool down," Joachim confessed to Alaan, keeping a humorous tone from being too obvious.

Alaan's reservation finally broke down. He broke down into a fit of incredulous laughter clearly at the expense of Joachim. The Admiral slapped the Oberst on the back as he stood up from the couch. As he noticed Joachim's confusion, his laughter only intensified.

"Well, since you clearly still don't understand the Calis and Jarva women, I imagine you're going to be in for a big surprise," Alaan managed to get out in between his laughter. "Get your rest Hoch and get back to the war as soon as you can. You're dead the moment Hanala realizes what you've done. The front line is safer than the wrath of a Jarva woman with Calis blood in her."

Still chuckling, Alaan departed, leaving Joachim sitting on the couch alone. As soon as the old man was out of sight, Joachim groaned, stretched out and laid flat on the couch. Alaan underestimated him. He could handle absolutely anything Hanala could throw at him.

If anything, Hanala's rage would be preferable to dealing with that bitch Galina any time soon.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

He had only managed to sleep several hours before the couch he was on started bothering him.

Now officially hung over, Joachim had begun his anti-hangover routine: one hundred push ups, sixty crunches, two cigarettes, a swig from his flask, a tall glass of water and a cup of coffee. It worked for the most part, but last night he was ingestion narcotics as well. While he could clear the alcohol out, the Pertivin wasn't so quick to leave the system.

Sitting there in the ship's galley, Joachim hand was rested against his head as he smoked the last of his cigarette and drank from his coffee. How the quarians got fresh beans, he did not want to know. At the moment his thoughts were far two occupied by the two matters that was plaguing. One of course being what Magda Goebbels had told him… about Hanala crying in what she assumed was secret.

After that huge row between Joachim and Galina about Hanala's mental health, he had to admit that he was feeling that he was ready to discuss the matter with her with her. She would try to avoid bringing Galina. The last thing he needed to do was let slip that he thought Hanala's mother was a total and absolute cunt in need of getting knocked down several pegs.

As ready as he might have been for that matter, there was a whole new matter that had been plaguing his mind for several weeks now. Ever since his night of drinking with Tatiyana Andrusiv, the promise he made to her about finding her a home to stay in was on his mind. It was a promise he intended on keeping when they reached Kiel, but the only family that he knew and they knew him was the Kass family.

The Kass's, like the Hoch's, were shipbuilders since the unification of the German states; first for _Kaiserliche Marine_ in service to the Kaiser and Prussian militarists, for Reichsmarine in service to the Weimer Republic, and then for the Kriegsmarine after the announcement of the rearmament. Shipbuilding was where their connection started and ended.

Unlike the Hoch's, who were hardliner conservatives that burned the moment the Kaiser abdicated, the Kass's were a solid family who were political mutants. They usually held no particular care for who was in charge: Family and shipbuilding were their priority. While staying out of the politics had left them stewing in a middle class as the Hoch's became social climbers. After the collapse the Hoch's lost it all while the Kass's remained firmly unshaken by the upheaval. Sometimes one's own nose down was for the best.

The Kass's and the Hoch's kept away from each other 1919 onwards after the Hoch's gave up shipbuilding. It would be another 14 years before the young, heavily intoxicated, troublemaker Joachim had decided the best way he could get the only girl in the area who did not find him charming, attention was by throwing a rock through her parent's bedroom window so he could ask if it as alright to court their daughter.

Obviously they weren't impressed by that. Thankfully his Mother's alcoholism certainly worked out for him that encounter. She simply paid for the damage and not a single word was spoken from her about the matter after that. No punishment, no rant, there was not even an acknowledgement that he even existed. That was his dear old mother, all right.

It took another two years before Katarina Kass decided she was indeed interested in him. He wasn't sure what changed her mind about it. As he recalled, the Kass's were starting to open up to accepting the Third Reich as a political power to stand behind. It had been them who had encouraged their children to join the youth groups. Katarina never struck Joachim as a true believer to National Socialism, but he did not care in the height of his devotion to the Party. To him, women were far too emotionally controlled and thus naturally less committed to ideology as a man would be. At least that was how he felt before he met Hanala.

Why Katarina ended up interested was a question that plagued him to this day. He didn't really get a straight answer. All that he knew for certain was that he had been in a somewhat causal relationship with her. He told her that the war had to come first, and when it was over they could be together. The complication came when Gerald Langer sat him down about a week after his daughter Helena turned 18 and basically gave him permission to marry her. It was an offer he was willing to take up…

And then one day Hanala appeared in his life and made the whole situation a thousand times more complicated.

With Helena now gone, the matter somewhat cleared up. There was still the matter of Katarina. The woman didn't deserve the arduous wait he was putting her through. Of course there was a chance that she moved on, but still. It just did not seem right that he kept her waiting on him. She needed an explanation at the very least. This was why he needed to open a dialog with her. He needed to settle his affairs before further complicating his relationship with Hanala.

First however he needed to run things by Hanala. At the risk of sounding like the woman was taming him, he just sort of felt that she needed to know the truth about him. That before she dropped out of the sky, stabbed him, seduced him, blew off his arm and now wanted him to raise a child with her, she needed to know that he had a complicated life before she came around.

Who knew, perhaps the same went for her. Perhaps she had someone before him. In all honesty that wasn't a pleasant thought, but life wasn't pleasant, it was a straight line from birth to death, only interrupted by painful fuck ups.

Before he could reach out and take his coffee mug, hands wrapped around his waist and a familiar body was pressed against his back. Setting his mug down, Joachim dropped his hand down and covered Hanala's hand, squeezing it and listening to the sigh she emitted. Hot breath tickled against the back of his neck as her lips touched his skin briefly.

"Thank you for doing that," Hanala spoke, her mouth muffled as it rested against his exposed shoulder. "Saleb is grateful as well... not that she would ever dare to admit that."

Joachim chuckled lowly as he recalled the early morning encounter. He rolled his chair around so that he could look at Hanala. She was utterly haggard. She had somehow matched him drink for drink, which said something when Hanala was lucky to be over a hundred pounds. Taking it as a sign that Joachim was open to being used as a chair pillow, Hanala plopped down on his lap, turned the chair around and took his glass of water for herself.

Smirking in to her… no, wait, his glass, Hanala slid the strong smelling coffee his way and nudged him into taking it. Grumbling, he obliged her and yawned.

"No hassle to me," he said as he took a sip of his drink. "I hate having you drooling all over my chest. It gives me a rash and while we're on the topic, do all quarians have copious amounts of saliva? Because I'm not kidding, you sound like you're drowning when you slee-"

Revealing her sharp teeth, Hanala growled at him with a primitive looking rage. Joachim smirked and decided not to finish that question. He groaned as Hanala shifted her weight and focused her pressure onto his groin. Deciding she didn't want to bruise his testicles in that manner, Hanala relaxed and rested against his chest.

"I was thinking that today we just rest and recover. I feel like I've been ran over by a bus. You don't look much better," Hanala rasped as she set the water back down. "Saleb is getting visitors today and I reckon that we could just lie on the couch and you'll let me continue drooling on you… and no, not in the way you like."

Her amendment cut Joachim off from his mental projection and made him knock his forehead into the back of her head. She yelped and turned right around, her back against the table for the briefest of moments before she leaned forward to press her mouth against his.

Tempted to keep this state up, Joachim suppressed the urge to clear the shit off the table and take her right there. Knowing that if Saleb woke up and found her aunt in that sort of position would pretty much scar her forever made his mind up. He needed to talk to her. She was pushing for him to be open with her, even if it was hypocritical that she refused to do the same thing.

"I got a few things I need to tell you about," Joachim said, watching as the playful expression on Hanala's mouth cease to exist. "I've decided that you're to be trusted with a few things going on in my life. Please don't make me regret it."

Hanala looked on Joachim carefully. She wanted to chastise him for making that remark, but she knew better then to open a freshly healed wound, especially when things were slowly coming together between the two of them. Instead, she leaned her back against the table edge, her hand reaching up to run down his chest.

"Everything is between the two of us now, Joachim," she softly reassured him. "What's happening?"

Joachim rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't sure where to begin. Hanala remained infinitely patient as she awaited his choice. After what felt like a little battle in his mind, he decided he would start with what he considered to be good news. It would break the ice for the awkwardness that was about to inevitably follow.

"So… So I was thinking about what you said to me when you met me in the Schwartzwald," Joachim finally spoke to her. "I was thinking about what you said about me needing to help take appropriate steps to find help; that I need to be as responsible for it as you are."

Hanala, against her loud-mouthed nature, only smiled and nodded slightly as she paid attention. Exhaling, he brought his hands down onto hers.

"I got an offer from a Generalmajor named Hasso von Manteuffel before I came here. He said that I had some talents and that he could mould me into something…well… _productive_ after the Civil War ended. He said he could weaken the indoctrination… I guess he wants me to be his student," Joachim informed Hanala slowly, watching her carefully for any signs of doubt. "From what I gathered, he wants to take what I have and help me punch holes into my National Socialist mind set and weaken it… with any luck I can break out of the grip."

Joachim trailed off and held his eyes on Hanala. She was still silent as she absorbed what he was saying. Taking the glass of water Hanala confiscated from him, Joachim sipped from it and set it back down.

"So… what do you think?" he asked, dropping his to looking down at their connected hands.

Pulling one of her hands free from his, Hanala pressed it against his cheek. Slowly she began to smile. It was one of those warm, reassuring looks she got whenever Joachim wasn't sounding like a complete lunatic as of late.

"I think this Manteuffel sees the good in you like I do and also wants to help you make a difficult transition that you might be unable to do alone," Hanala softly returned. "I can't make you take the offer, but this is the sort of thing I was talking about. This is a first, really, really good step."

Looking very happy from something she likely did not expect from him, she freed her other hand and wrapped them booth around his neck. She tilted her head to side as she continued to smile up at him. Despite his concern for her state, Joachim managed to return the smile, albeit more strained.

"I've got a few doctors who could see you. I know you're a little agitated by quarians, but I found one named Farana'Talub. He's a military psychologist, but at the very least, he won't just get you hooked onto drugs. He'll actually help if he thinks you could be helped by him," Hanala said as she cracked her back and rested against him now. "I also have a list of Germans physicians. I haven't contacted them for obvious reasons. I was also thinking about looking outside of Germany and my people; perhaps someone in Great Britain when the war is over. You share a language with them. Perhaps that is what you need: an outsider. With a German you might be more likely not to be so open, but with… say… an English doctor, you might have less standards to keep -"

"So tell me," Joachim cut her off from going into any more details about a treatment plan she was researching for him. "Are you going to put the same sort of dedication you have shown me into finding help for yourself? Or are you going to just keep pretending that you weren't affected like I was."

He hadn't intended to be this blunt. He really hadn't. But sitting there listening to her talk about looking into English doctors had shown him the extent of her obsession with finding help for him at the expense of taking out time to help herself. He could not sit there and listen to any more of it. Not when it was clear that Hanala needed to be broken from this commitment. Unbeknownst to her, soon she would soon have Galina on her case about it. She might as well get used to the shift in affairs. She could not hide in plain sight now.

Although Hanala was still smiling, she blinked and narrowed her eyes at him. It was the sort of look that told him to mind his words in case she lost it and started a fight. Being this close usually meant Hanala could (and would) resort to using her dagger-like teeth.

"I know you Hanala'Jarva," he continued, his voice a little gruffer than before. "I know when you dodge a question or try to deceive me. I know that you want to fix me, and I love you for it, but you can't do that unless you go out and seek help yourself. You know I'm right..."

Still Hanala was silent. She pulled her arms off his neck and relaxed once again against the table as she searched his expression. She, like him, appeared to be looking for a way to respond without turning the topic into a full blown battle. They had two more days together and the last thing they needed way to create a tension. Having Saleb here also made the situation more troublesome. Hanala and Joachim loved to fight each other; verbal, physical, it did not matter. The last thing the child needed to see were the good natured, but violent battles they fought that almost always ended with the two of them fucking each other stupid.

So… this was the sort of thing Gerald Langer meant by 'abandoning the fun for a family instead'. He had thought the old man was trying to scare him out of having a family at a young age. Apparently there was a grain of truth to his words.

"Look Joachim," Hanala returned after a moment longer, her voice low and kind sounding. "I love it that you're looking out for me, but one of us at a time. As soon as you're getting treatment, I'll go out and get treatment."

Joachim frowned at her remark. Although she said the words, Joachim had to be a little doubtful she would stick to them.

"I'm not playing that game Hanala. I am not interested in it. I don't need your sacrifice on my conscious," he warned her, his voice as neutral as it could be. "You need help as soon as possible. I know I can't make you get help, but think about it."

Realizing that Hanala had made her boilerplate assurance she would get some help on her terms and she was not willing to have a debate about the subject any further, Joachim fell silent. He instead watched as Hanala focused again on his liquid breakfast. Although she presented the image of casual dismissal to his concerns, he could see that the stubborn girl looked bothered.

Growing steadily more annoyed by her, and happy he turned his attention to Galina and Alaan for support, He focused on his coffee. He could feel Hanala's eyes burn holes through him.

"What's your second thing you needed to tell me?"

Setting down his cup and shuffling Hanala's weight on his thighs, he looked once again to Hanala who stared neutrally at him. For a moment his words failed him.

"Before we got together… did you have anyone…" he had started before he words died in his throat. Coughing, he added. "You know… _special_?"

Hanala's eyebrows rose as she digested the remark. She silently pulled herself off his lap and, with a roll of her hips; she walked towards the refrigeration unit. Joachim's eyes followed her backside covered up by one of Joachim's shirt that she was using as a dress. The view seemed to never get old for him. Frankly it was a very nice ass.

"No… never."

Joachim's eyes widened as he nearly flew back into his seat. She… she never found herself in a relationship before? How… how was that even possible? She was gorgeous, perhaps a little short. But from the way they had sex he expected her to have had a partner or two before he was there. It was the sort of thing that he had expected and tried never to ask in case he looked up a former boyfriend with the intention of kicking his ass.

But here she was, saying that was not the case. She was 24, going on 25 years old. How was that even possible? Was she some sort of Space Catholic?

"Never?" he incredulously asked. "Are you kidding me?"

Turning around with a containing of food he would likely never understand, Hanala smiled and shook her head as she closed the refrigerator.

"No… that's not to say I was frigid," Hanala confirmed as she opened the lid, grabbed what appeared to have been a fork, and headed back to him. "I had my interests in a couple, but you would be surprised how little they found an element zero addled Tau'azie girl with two Admirals, a community organizer and a captain in the family attractive enough to be worth the risk."

She took a seat next to him and looked up from her strange scented fruitlike breakfast she was poking at. She was smiling sadly.

"After a while you just sort of get used to being alone," she said, shrugging. "Tau'azie's reputations are never good, even if you're a good person."

That was twice now he had heard that foreign word. Joachim tilted his head.

" _Tau'azie_?" he repeated.

Swallowing a mouthful of her breakfast, Hanala looked up at him.

"It means _Illegal Life_ ," Hanala returned like it was the most casual thing she could say. "Technically, I am not allowed to exist. By law I should have been aborted, but Mother couldn't do it. Bad idea at the time, but since we found Earth, I got lucky."

Hanala turned her attention to her breakfast. She left Joachim staring in abhorrent disgust from what he was being told. His vehement opposition to abortion aside for the moment, the fact that this enlightened quarian government had resorted to these sorts of policies had left a bad taste in his mouth. He could see the reasoning to their actions, but that did not mean he liked it.

"Although the fleet still considers me useful for work, the one child policy dictates that only a legal born child is allowed the rights to things like reproduction or face potential forced abortion or exile," Hanala elaborated as she swallowed a mouthful of the sweet smelling fruits. "They do not forbid relationships and marriage, but there is a huge social stigma about being close to people like me. Relationships have to be practical and productive."

She set down her fork and glanced back to Joachim ruefully.

"Although we're rare to find, marrying or even loving a Tau'azie is never a good idea, or so the parents taught their children. Like I said… you just sort of get used to that rejection," Hanala pressed on with a soft sigh. She smiled slightly, shrugging, she added, "But now it no longer matters. We land on Earth, we end population restrictions and we'll double our population before the end of the century. "

Joachim remained silent as he listened to Hanala's positive dismissal of her problem. He supposed there were other Tau'azie's like her out there she could have courted. Still, it sort of left Joachim both pleased he had been the only one, and a little bothered that by comparison he was a total and absolute whore. He spent his youth fucking every woman that showed him a slight interest. He would take as much as he could of that to the grave, but he did have to be open about the one matter at hand.

The topic had left Hanala eying him suspiciously. There was a faint, mocking smile as she looked him over. Inwardly Joachim groaned. He was going to be lucky if Hanala didn't start making fun of him for being suspicious about her past.

"And I suppose there is a woman in your life that might be out there still waiting for your return?" she guessed wildly, but accurately.

Joachim shuffled in place at her accurate assessment. He did not reply. He really did not have to. For now he was glad this was her focus rather than the depressing revelation about her status amongst the fleet. Good enough to serve, not good enough to have the same rights.

I know you, Joachim Hoch," Hanala continued, her voice lowering as deeps as she could in order to imitate him. "I know that National Socialism demands marriage young and babies not long after that. You have a wife or a fiancée… or babies out there I'm not aware of?"

Although she giggled at his expense, it was less warm than she wanted to project. She was genuinely concerned about it. Joachim chuckled as well. It was significantly more nervous as her eyes fluttered and her eyes dimmed.

"No, nothing of the sort; her name is Katarina Kass. I knew her when I was a young Jack the Lad. She never paid much attention until she got wind I was in SS-Junkerschule, and then she started sending letters," he explained to the inquisitive woman staring at him. "We… dated. I think she had designs about a future with me. That was the sort of thing that the Bund Deutscher Mädel encouraged in their girls. Anyways, I didn't want to commit too much. Gerald was talking about war on the horizon and making suggestions about marrying… marrying into the family when Helena was old enough."

Hanala turned away from him and focused her attention on moodily poking her breakfast with her fork rather violently. All of her good cheer was gone. She wasn't even pretending not to be bothered by what she was hearing. She knew that he had relations with others before, but perhaps relationship he shared with Katarina was completely different. Of course she hadn't seemed to factor in that this was what felt like a whole different life time ago. He was a different person entirely back then.

"My, my, aren't you quite _popular_ …" she murmured mutinously as she continued to stab away, not even bothering to eat. Joachim could not help but smile at the reaction.

"Are you being possessive?" Joachim inquired, smirking through his small grin. "This is a first. I thought you advanced aliens were above base emotions."

He knew he was being hypocritical. He would have had the exact same reaction had Hanala had even one significant other prior to him. Still, he had to also admit that this was fun. Usually it was him who was squirming and being uncomfortable about matters Hanala found trivial.

Setting her food on the table top, Hanala turned back to Joachim, scowling at his remark.

"No I am not upset, why would I _ever_ be possessive of you? You're nothing special," she muttered grumpily at him, her attitude and posture completely contradicting her words. "I just think that you would have mentioned this to me sooner. You know… like a year ago or so. It seems like sort of a big deal that you have a secret girlfriend out there waiting for you to get married to and have perfect little Aryan babies with her as per the beloved Führer's directive… HEIL HITLE-!"

Joachim slapped his hand over Hanala's mouth, making her muffle out a screech. Still, her hand flew high over her head, making a sloppy looking Hitlergruß. Joachim groaned lowly as he let go of her mouth and listened to her laugh mockingly at him. He had been right about her. She was upset. Reaching over, Joachim lifted her hand and squeezed it. She was still glaring at him, but at the very least she squeezed back. It looked as though his evisceration would not come today.

"It's nothing that serious, but still, she was important and I left that matter open for her when I left to deploy on the German/Polish frontier," he elaborated for her benefit in hopes of settling her down. "She's in Kiel still as far as I know, alive or not, I'm not sure. But since that's where we'll be advancing to next, I figure that if she's alive, I'll settle matters and tell her that… well… I found you… and I intend on keeping you."

Having said what he needed to say, Joachim fell silent and continued to look at the brooding woman who turned away from him in order to focus once again on massacring her fruit breakfast with her fork. She was muttering in low, untranslated Khellish. After a moment longer, she finally looked up and met his eyes. Her scowl slowly reformed back into a smile.

"Good answer, I suppose," Hanala finally murmured to him. "Anything less and I track her down and kill the pair of you…"

Hanala trailed off and craned her neck to the side. Her smile broke into a wide grin. Joachim turned back and found none other than Saleb standing there in the kitchen, staring at the two of them suspiciously. It was clear that that the child didn't enjoy seeing her aunt interacting with him. It would have to be something she would need to get used to should he make it through the last stretch of the Civil War.

Looking to Joachim for a moment, Hanala turned and stood from her seat and made her way over to the girl. Saleb stepped back, as though Hanala had been infected by some lethal pathogen.

"Hello Saleb, can I make you anything?" Hanala inquired, ignoring the reaction.

Saleb did not reply. Instead she gave a dark stare at Joachim and then turned away leaving the two of them alone and shocked at how cold the five year old was. Hanala turned back around, she appeared to be struggling with keeping herself from laughing. It was clear just who the young girl disliked.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Joachim emitted a low groan. He had just managed to push his focus away from the whole tension Saleb had with regards to him. Silently he allowed the smug looking Hanala to lean in and kiss his cheek. She pulled herself back and allowed her hand to move in one circular rotation before she backed off.

"Oh wow… does she ever haaate you," she just had to point out to him. "Wait until she finds out she may have cousins because you can't keep yourself out of another woman!"

Glaring at Hanala as she left to coerce the child into returning to the kitchen, Joachim stood up, grabbed his cigarettes and decided to do Saleb a favour by not being around her. He would try and go easy on the girl. Perhaps it would earn him points with Saleb.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It had been quite some time since a lazy day could be shared between Hanala and Joachim. If Hanala If she had her way she would string up every man who called the impromptu meeting for disturbing the lazy day they had planned out for today.

Yesterday it did not take much to convince Joachim to only commit to three things: Eat, sleep and attempt to have extremely tedious and painful sex when they could steal a few hours away from Saleb. It also did not help that he didn't seem to be into it. He just seemed so distant whenever they got more intimate then a heated kiss.

Perhaps it was the topics they shared for about an hour of tense conversation before Saleb awakened that put him in the mood. They were self-inflicted concerns about her mental state and the woman he was supposed to be with who she was totally not jealous of in the slightest; because if she was jealous that would make her petty and Hanala wasn't petty about a likely gorgeous blonde hair, icy blue eyed, big breasted with perfect unvarnished skin and fertile at the slightest mention of children from Joachim's whisper and believed in absolutely everything he said and would never dare question him, speak against him... and could cook-

Shaking her head to force her attention away from this mysterious and obviously alluring Katarina Kass, who Joachim still thought about for the past three… nearly four years even after she had stuck her claim on him. Perhaps she was attractive enough for even her to fall for her. Unlike Joachim she wasn't afraid to be a little curious about her own sexu…

Smacking her forehead as she realized she was fixating on the unalterable and having extremely awkward thoughts, Hanala focused on applying a light shade of eyeliner. It was like she said; she was high above all concepts of petty jealousy over that. That was the truth and she would stick to it. As for the pretext to having her first lesbian encounter… well it was probably best to wait until she at least saw Katarina for herself first. Germanic women were either beautiful or were built like men. There really wasn't much of a compromise between the two.

Poking her facial scarring moodily, Hanala pushed herself off her bathroom sink and silently grumbled in what little angry German she knew. It was the perfect rage language. She could only imagine how scared the slow sounding Anglophones were when they heard a German screaming, only to not realize they were telling their friend what the weather was like as they wished a happy birthday.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she jumped in place as standing there in only a t-shirt and boxers stood a frazzled haired, stubbly faced Joachim Hoch. He crossed his arms and remained silent as he relished in Hanala's sudden guilty smile and even guiltier posture.

"You look good in a uniform, but I was under the impression that you had time off," Joachim begun, his voice neutral as looked her uniformed body over once.

Hanala shuffled in place and took once careful step forward. Her hand reached out to touch his abdomen.

"I got called in for a meeting. Technical Admiral left me doing all the tertiary work on behalf of the others. It was boring but it meant my hours were more set in stone," she informed him, her fingers traveling up his chest until the gripped the v-neck of the shirt he wore. Smiling, she added. "Since I effectively crippled Zorah's hand in the short term; that means I get all sorts of new tasks that eat up my time… It's surprisingly tough work being relied on by royalty, especially when they want accountability."

Although it was clear that he was annoyed as she was about the unscheduled meeting with the Prince and the others, he seemed resigned to duty. Deciding she needed to lighten his mood, she smiled widely as she let go of his shirt. Her hands moved down and took his hands into hers.

"You know, the Crown Prince promised me a Countess title if I remain in his good graces until his ascension to the restored throne," Hanala spoke lightly to him. "Tell me, should I take the title and rule over you glorified _apes_?"

Joachim quirked his mouth in mild amusement of the thought of a quarian attaining human nobility, let alone accepting it as a legitimate form of government. While she might not have believed in it, it was quite flattering if the offer was genuine.

"If you want something from him, then demand money or land or jewels, whatever that is worth something instead," Joachim replied, his sensibilities killing the enjoyment of the thought of being an aristocrat. "The aristocracy is going to count for shit when the militarists turn their focus from the war and make Louie fall for the same trick Hindenburg and Ludendorff made his Grandfather Billy fall for."

Dropping one of his hands, Hanala reached up and slapped him on the chest.

"I think you underestimate the decency Louis has," she shot back to her sceptical boyfriend. "He was as misguided as you were by Halid'Zorah."

Joachim rolled his eyes. His grip on her hand tightened as together they started walking down the direction to the docking bay of the Bismarck. She smiled as she looked up at him looking ahead as though he considered her some sort of package or VIP who he needed to deliver to an agreed upon spot. It was kind of charming in a way.

"Like grandfather, like son, like grandson," he muttered as he continued to guide her along. "At least with assets it can go towards a better life. I haven't seen a paycheque in months and I imagine you don't get paid anything ever; and you…"

Jaochim trailed off and looked once again at her, only to groan in disgust as a soprt of revelation washed over him.

"Dear God," he muttered, "I'm dating a genuine Bolshevik, Christ… what in the hell is wrong with me?"

Hanala broke down into an excited laugh as Joachim finally figured out how things were now run on the fleet. It was always fun to make Joachim squirm. Instead of launching a verbal offensive against him, she instead wrapped her arm right around his waist. She smiled even wider as she felt Joachim return the gesture arm wrapped around her shoulder to pull her in even closer.

"Are you taking Saleb with you?"

Hanala stopped walking and looked up to Joachim once again. She could not help but nervously hop on the tips of her toes as she digested his question. Slowly she shook her head and stepped back from him.

"I… I was thinking that you could spend a few hours with Saleb," was her soft spoken response.

Silently she watched as Joachim's warm expression turn weary as he absorbed her suggestion. He crossed his arms and frowned. It wasn't a good sign. Hanala thought that this was what he had wanted: to be trusted by her as he trusted her… even though she frequently skirted around the truth. What gave him pause now?

"I take it you have listening devices planted on the ship so that your Mother can intervene and keep me from being a harmful influence on Saleb?" Joachim spoke to her, his tone edged with paranoia.

Hanala blinked as Joachim made his suspicion known to her. So he didn't quite trust her as he advertised. Or it was a different matter, perhaps he didn't trust himself with her and he was trying to convince her that he wasn't ready for that responsibility, but he didn't want to say it out loud out of fear that she judge him. It was a totally unnecessary concern.

"I didn't ask my Mother to come over… or Magda or Rala to come over and supervise the two of you," Hanala replied as she took a step forward. "I know I said that I didn't think it was safe that you were around her. I also know that you are trying to get better now and… and I need to start trusting you. So... will you keep an eye on her? It's not hard…"

Once again she reached out and took his hands. She felt them squeeze back in response.

"For better or for worse, you've been honest with me, or at least you're trying to be," Hanala spoke again. "I may not like some things about your honesty, but I respect that you respect me enough that you don't want to hide things between us. I suppose I should be honest as well."

"All right then," Joachim said as he stepped back from her, offering Hanala a strained half smile. "I suppose I'll keep out of her way, and not talk to her unless spoken to. I wouldn't want to permanently scar her... Since she's obviously so fragile."

The biting tone in Joachim's voice made Hanala blink. She chose not to address it. Not when in the bottom of her gut she knew that this unsubtle stance had evidence backing him.

"You'll do fine," Hanala assured Joachim. "She's… she's a little hard to crack, but once she understands that you aren't so bad, she'll fall in line."

Watching silently as Joachim nodded, Hanala took a step backwards; waving and turning to leave. She did not pay notice to Joachim's forlorn expressed as he watched her glide down to the shuttle bay.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

An hour in and Joachim had made none of the progress Hanala assured him would happen.

Although she might have seemed somewhat sweet and unassuming, Saleb was apparently a miniature version of her Grandmother; thankfully without her attitude. She just sort of treated Joachim as some sort of invisible malady she would have to endure for the foreseeable future. It was an act that appeared to make her at least comfortable with the two of them sharing the same room without the distraction of Hanala or her friends.

If this was what she wanted right now then Joachim was glad to provide that. Perhaps neither of them was ready for this sort of exposure to each other. It was not hard to see her point of view, and his reasons were just as obvious.

It was his fault that all of this happened. He should have gotten the Langer's involved a months before everything fell apart. He should have told Gerald and Lene on Julfest about his intentions. They could have fled and there would have been no reason for the massacre to have occurred. In his cowardice, he could not shame them, and as a result the whole family was wiped out and Saleb was left without parents of her own. Hanala could blame herself all she wanted, but Joachim knew that the blame lay squarely at his feet for not doing the right thing.

The sound of barking, futuristic machine gun fire caught his attention. It was Saleb doing what she was doing since the moment Hanala stepped off the _Bismarck_. Her omni-tool was active. On it was some sort of fake war game thing that Joachim could not make sense one way or another. All he knew for certain was that it sounded utterly annoying and it appeared not meant for children.

Growing irritated by not having a cigarette since he first arrived on the ship, Joachim turned around to Saleb. She was still dedicated to fighting on the virtual front.

"Is that all that you _do_?" he had to ask the girl. "Use that toy and _nothing_ else?"

Saleb did not bother to look at him. She continued to fight her electronic war.

"It's not a toy; it's _Call to Action: Black Operations 7_ ," Saleb finally explained her toy to him. Noticing his confused expression, she exasperatedly added. "You know… Turians against the Krogan during the big rebellion!? How could you not know the krogan rebellion, everyone knows it!"

Joachim squinted hard as he absorbed what the girl's gibberish was telling him. Hanala had explained the krogan rebellion as a warning about flippantly uplifting a race and it was something that tempered quarian desire to launching an offensive a decade from now; but Activation Studios? Christ, the creators needed to make seven versions of the same toy? Joachim was under the impression from Halid'Zorah that salarians were precise, clever creatures that didn't need to make the same garbage seven times just to make a quick Reichsmark off children and their parents.

Joachim remained silent as the child shot another player through the chest with what appeared to be some alien sniper rifle. He could see some benefit to it, but not for children. Many young soldiers were reluctant to fire their weapons in combat. It was the sort of grievous error that led to the breakdown of unit cohesion and ultimately death. A toy such as this could help desensitize that fear of taking life. Whether it worked or not was unknown to him and better left in the hands of doctors to figure out. Still it was an interesting idea.

While he may have thought of it as a learning tool for his troops, he still could not condone this for a child. Not so much for the violence, but the clear display of a lazy childhood being developed. He could give Hanala a pass for it; she was new to being a parent, but to Galina and perhaps even Veyare and Alaan. He had no evidence to any of this just yet. All he knew was that shit like this was not helping her.

"So let me get this straight. Children sit around and pretend they're fighting a war hundreds of years ago?" Joachim finally replied to the child, who looked more and more annoyed by his Luddite behaviour. "I get the appeal of playing war with actual children, but not the appeal of sitting alone looking at a screen."

Saleb snapped her head away from the screen to glare malevolently at him.

"Why are you so rude?!" she demanded, her voice growing higher and higher with rage. "Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you!?"

The sudden explosion of anger caught Joachim off guard completely. It was total overreaction that he should have anticipated from a Jarva girl. He had been under the impression that she would be more like her much more soft spoken late mother. Still, the sheer rage was something that nearly made Joachim laugh. It was like watching a miniature Hanala overreact.

"I never, at any point, hated you Saleb," Joachim returned softly. "I'm not nearly as scary as you seem to think that I am."

The child was clearly not buying that. He wouldn't have. He had time and time again shown her that he wasn't very nice to be around.

"Then why are you so mean all the time?!" Saleb cried out. "You hurt people, you hurt Auntie Hanala. My... my daddy told me you hurt her all the time."

Joachim looked at the child grimly. He had been trying to forget that he did that to Hanala. His own overreaction to what he perceived as a slight was well documented by Rael, who wanted nothing better than to rightfully defend his little sister from him. However it was a mistake, which Hanala accepted his apology for and spent weeks punishing him whenever he least expected it.

"That's a little overblown, but he was right. I did hurt her on a couple occasions; I feel bad for doing it too," he admitted to the girl. "The thing about your Auntie Hanala is that no matter how bad I may have hurt her she'll hurt me back twice as bad. She's strong in ways I never thought a woman could be. It also helps that Hanala is just a plain mean woman."

" **Auntie Hanala is nice, you** _ **liar**_!" Saleb screeched, her expression filled with disgust for him. "You're the mean, awful one who hurts people and shouts and says mean things all the time to nice people. Why does Auntie Hanala like you? You're a monster!"

Joachim did not reply right away as he allowed the stinging comments to wash right over him. He knew that children had no filter, and she was accurate about him. He wasn't very pleasant to anyone. In fact he was a right cunt, so it was little wonder why the child didn't like him. He had to work on that when he had some time.

Unable to do anything else but acknowledge the anger, Joachim shrugged slightly.

"I don't know why she likes me-"

"You tricked and lied to her to make her like you," Saleb cut across him with a mutinous mutter. Joachim could not believe the sheer nerve of the child. Perhaps she wasn't quite as weak as he initially assumed.

"Yes, that's probably the case," Joachim chuckled as he smiled slightly at the child. "Have you shared this with your Auntie? I think that she would be happy to hear you're protecting her from me."

Saleb's combative attitude died as soon as Joachim brought Hanala up to her. Even as young as she was, Saleb knew it wasn't wise to anger her with a lot of unverified assumptions about him. She did not take hearsay well. Joachim bent down and offered her a grim expression.

"It's as you said, I did hurt your aunt on more than one occasion, and yes I am a real mean bastard…" he trailed off, coughing as he added, " …you'd do well not repeating that."

He trailed off and silently berated himself for exposure in to foul language.

"Saleb, I have made every effort to distance myself from your Aunt Hanala. She has made it her business to stay in my life, and what she wants, she figures she gets," Joachim decided to admit to the child. "Because she wants to stay, that means you and I are going to interact more and more now. You may not like that, and I would understand why. I haven't been the nicest person. Perhaps we can work around the past."

The girl's expression softened just a little. It was clear she still very much mistrusted him, but she seemed to understand that both of them were put together by their mutual interest. Hanala was the one who wanted them to build up a relationship, which was way she hadn't simply called up her Grandmother or took her to visit friends.

"Well, since you're now stuck with me we might as well make the best of it," he continued on briskly. He paused and gestured to her toy, adding. "I just don't understand a lot of things like this, so you're going to have to teach me. Just as I will teach you what I know, okay?"

Saleb did not reply. She turned her focus back to her toy, leaving Joachim standing over her. Sighing he turned away, his hand rubbing his neck as he once again battled his urges to break out his cigarettes and liquor. Christ, quarian children were significantly more difficult than human children. There was a larger sense of entitlement that was for sure.

Sighing he poured himself a glass of water and took a sip. Through peripheral vision, he could faintly see Saleb behind him, focused on her screen once moment, the next looking up at him. He decided against interacting with her for the time being. This routine lasted for several minutes. Whatever was going on in Saleb's mind, it wasn't the same sort of thought process she had about him. Perhaps her rage just needed to be expressed.

 _"Auntie Hanala told me that you made her ride on the back of a large four legged animal around Earth one time."_

Joachim turned back to the child, his head tilting as he looked at her curiously. Once again Saleb did not look back at him; her eyes were devoted to her hand held device. At least that was the impression she was giving off. He could see that Hanala was already rubbing off on her. Like her aunt, she was still twitching her eyes, looking past the screen of her toy to look at him.

Gripping his glass of water, Joachim sat down across from her. The sound of her imaginary war was still being waged. Although it seemed like a far shot, perhaps there was some hope for the child after all. Even if owning and maintaining a horse was expensive, anything was better than then mind numbing garbage the child was subjecting herself to voluntarily. He would burn this Activation Studios to the ground save the parents of the galaxy the headache if he could.

"You mean a _horse_?" Joachim said, the name of the animal catching her attention finally. "Yes she did try horseback riding. Would that something that interests you?"

Saleb looked at him for a moment before nodding slightly, her attention reverting back to her game.

"Kind of…" the child admitted in a low murmur. "Auntie Hanala said they were really nice. I've never been on a planet before. Are horses all big?"

Joachim remained perfectly silent. His lack of response made the child look up at Joachim in confusion. She was clearly used to having adults dote on her. Not having her answer right away must have been quite the shock that an adult wasn't willing to be a source of information to her. Oh, Joachim was willing to be just that, but he was not about to compete with some electronic toy.

"I'll tell you if you turn that off," he bargained with her.

As he fell silent, Saleb turned back and continued playing her game. She might have been young, but apparently the child was not interested in compromising so quickly. Oh, he knew he had her curiosity. At this point the girl was just posturing and after several more moments, Joachim could not help but smirk as she shut down her feed and turned to look at him directly.

"There are many species of horses. Some are very big," Joachim informed the child as he leaned back into his seat. "The one Hanala had to ride was for law enforcement, so they had to be large and imposing. There are smaller breeds for little girls like you. Perhaps a pony would be better suited for you. I think that they'd be better suited for that short Aunt of yours…"

Chuckling slightly, his barb observation of Hanala did nothing to break Saleb out of her subdued state. She looked away from Joachim and focused on her own lap.

"Auntie Hanala told me that you are a t…te… _technophobe_ ," she spoke to herself even though it was addressed to him. "You don't know things like machines and computers… and I need to be patient about those things with you. But you know a lot of other things like sports and animals and activities I don't know. And you would help me if I asked."

Joachim inclined his head slightly.

"I can do that," he promised her. "And when things settle down I am willing to teach you anything you want to know."

Saleb nodded. Slowly she looked up and met his eyes; her expression determined and solid.

"Can you teach me to fight?"

Joachim blinked. He hadn't quite expected this from her. It wasn't just her gender that made him surprise. The girl was simply pampered and she gave the impression that she didn't want to learn about the more masculine activities. Horse riding was one thing, but fighting was a whole different thing.

Saleb slid herself to the edge of her seat. Her eyes were pleading with him.

"Auntie Hanala says that you're the best soldier she knows," she attempted to flatter Joachim. "Soldiers fight in Call to Action 7. Can you teach me to fight like that… please?"

Joachim arched his eyebrow at her.

"You're four years old and you needed that contraption to figure out what I do," Joachim reminded her, gesturing to her omni-tool. "Why do you need to fight? I see no reason why."

Saleb launched herself off the couch and stormed right up into Joachim's face. She was absolutely furious with his provocation. Joachim had to admit that he was impressed that a five year old had lost all her nervous fear of him the moment she needed something from him. She was a Jarva through and through.

"I'm five! I want to know how to fight. I want to fight the bad people. The bad people you fight, they made my mommy and daddy die!" Saleb shouted right back in his face. "You're a soldier and you fight all the time. Auntie and Grandma talk about it all the time. I want you to help me hurt them."

Saleb stepped back from the flabbergasted human. She sniffled as though she was holding back her need to try. Perhaps it was to show him that she was a big girl who didn't cry openly. He had to admit it was kind of impressive. She was going against his expectations.

"You have good reasons to want to learn, but five years old is still far too young to start," Joachim spoke lowly to the girl. "I am not saying no to you, but soon, when you're a little older and your loss is less recent. Plus your aunt will hurt me if she finds out what I'm doing for you."

He watched as Saleb's eyes widened when she realized that he wasn't saying no and that it was all just a matter of permission. Once again she stepped forward, but this time it was different. This time she reached out and attentively placed both of her hands over his natural hand. Looking at it for a moment, Joachim looked up to the girl. She was determination personified.

"She won't have to find out! I promise she won't!" Saleb assured him wildly. "I want to know how to fight… Joachim, _please_!"

Joachim widened his eyes. This was the first time she actually used his name while in his presence.

Looking at her for a moment, Joachim pulled his hand out of hers and stood up, towering right over the child. Again her nerves got the best of her and she stepped back. Joachim frowned. It would have to be something they would work on. Size could not intimidate her if she wanted to learn about fighting effectively.

"Well okay then…" Joachim acquiesced, his voice weary. "I'll teach you your first lesson for now, but I have terms. Rules you have to obey without question."

Bouncing on the tips of her toes, Saleb's expression turned into a wide smile. She nodded enthusiastically as she awaited his terms. Rubbing the back of his neck again, Joachim cleared his throat.

"First, you have to listen to what I say; you do not go against what I tell you," he started. "My instructions are not to be ignored. Understood?"

Saleb nodded quickly.

"Understood."

Making sure that Saleb wasn't just paying him lip service, Joachim stared hard at the child in a matter not dissimilar to what he would use on green soldiers. Saleb amazingly withstood the scrutiny.

"Second, you will swear to me that what you learn from me, you will not use whenever you feel like it," Joachim pressed on, his voice even sterner the before. "If I hear that you've kicked another child's ass without justification and that it wasn't self-defence, I'm never going to teach you to fight and I swear right now I will bend you over my knee and spank you. From what I have seen, you'll be the first quarian child to ever receive corporal punishment in quite some time and I don't think you want to have that title. Understood?"

Once again Saleb consented to the rule. He really didn't want to spank her, but he couldn't abide her turning what he knew on to some unsuspecting child. There had to be consequences, and if he was the only one in her life who had the stomach to commit to a hardliner stance with her then so be it.

Deciding to lighten the mood, Joachim bent down onto his knee to look at Saleb eyelevel. His hand fell heavily onto her shoulder.

"And most important of all, you have to promise this is between us," he whispered as though she could be watching them. "Your Aunt cannot know that I'm teaching you to fist fight or she will toss me out the airlock. Do we have a deal?"

At long last, Saleb finally let los a soft giggle. Yet again she nodded. Pulling his hand off her shoulder, Joachim offered to her. As soon as she gripped it, he shook her hand and let go. He looked over her choice in clothing. A long dress thing the quarians wore.

"Now go and put on some slacks," Joachim commanded as he stood back up. "We'll start when you can move comfortably."

He smiled as the girl nodded and ran off in the direction of her bedroom. Perhaps there was some hope for her yet.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

If there was an ability that Hanala severely underestimated in human males –especially those of military background, it was their quarianlike impulse to talk, talk and talk some more. The meeting was two hours over the expected length for the gathering. It left Hanala rather antsy to get off the Kareon and back to the Bismarck.

She had two reasons to be so jittery. For starters, it was Joachim's last day before he would be heading back to Germany to re-join his unit for a push north; a push north to Kiel, where a jilted potential wife awaited for him. She would need to remind him why they were together so that he wasn't tempted to return to her.

The second was the child she had left in his company. Now, she did want to trust Joachim, and it was unlikely that anything bad would happen on his part. Her concern came from Saleb, who had real issues with being left alone for too long. It also didn't help that she had been left alone with Joachim, who while he was trying to repair the relationship, she still flat out did not like. There might have been a curiosity once, but that was all taken from her when Joachim came back to the fleet shortly after that terrible day.

As she thanked her shuttle pilot and stepped out of the vehicle, Hanala quickened her pace. The last thing she needed to deal with was a metaphorical spilling of blood between them. Saleb did not have a filter and while he would never physically or verbally rough Saleb up, Joachim came from a culture that made it a point that children were to be seen and not heard. He would not be kind if she wasn't at the very least respectful.

That was when she heard a noise she never expected to hear as her heels clicked down the access route to the lounge.

It was laughter.

It wasn't just Saleb, or Joachim. They were laughing together like they were sharing a joke together. Kicking off her heels, Hanala could not help but smile. Perhaps they hadn't murdered each other after all. Perhaps they had finally made some progress!

Unbuttoning her jacket, she turned the corner and entered the lounge. Sitting together on the couch was Saleb and Joachim. In Joachim's hand a tall glass of water, in Saleb's a canister of juice. Both of them were whispering lowly, too low for her to make out until she cleared her throat.

"Hello there, you two."

Turning away from each other, they peered up at Hanala as though they had collaborated in some sort of crime. Saleb looked sweaty faced and worn out like Joachim had put her through his daily workout routine, but despite that, she still appeared utterly happy. She pushed herself off the couch and wrapped her around her aunt briefly before she waved to Joachim and ran off in the direction of the bedroom, leaving Hanala utterly confused.

She remained silent as Joachim was the next one off the couch. He stepped forward and like Saleb, he too smiled and hugged her. Ready this time, Hanala leaned in and returned to gesture.

"She seems happy, like there's more life in her," Hanala commented, feeling slightly proud that it seemed to work out "And what's your secret? Or did it just come natural?"

She watched as Joachim bit down onto his lip as he looked back in the direction in which Saleb ran down. He turned back, looking genuinely nervous now. He gave off a slow, awkward huff of a laugh.

"Here's the thing…" he muttered, like the next words he spoke was a death sentence. "I've kind of taught her how to fight."

Hanala's blood ran cold as she stared at him widely. Her breathing ragged as tried her best to give him a moment to give a punch line. It wasn't long before she finally realized that Joachim wasn't just saying something to make her angry. He was telling her the truth. It was a truth that Hanala could not stand.

She reached and grabbed him by his arm, before he knew it; she heaved him forward, making him lead her down in the direction of the shuttle bay. She needed to get as far as she could in order to muffle the argument from Saleb in case it got too heated. Still the son of a bitch was laughing at her reaction. As soon as they reached the doors to the docking bay, Hanala replied by shoving him as hard as she could against the wall.

He did not have a moment to groan and rub his back before the enraged new mother launched herself right up into his face.

 _"Joachim how could you?"_ she screeched in a whisper at him. _"She's just a little girl!"_

Completely undaunted by her display of naked rage, Joachim only shrugged at the concern she had for the serious breach in Hanala's policy regarding Saleb.

"Saleb is a little girl who lost her parents and found a healthy outlet to direct her _anger_ at. She's young, but she knows that her parents are never coming back to her," Joachim returned, his tone neutral as he looked down on her. "She's not pretending her life is normal and if she suppresses that it will revert back to how it used to be; if thoughts of revenge is her means to get through each day, then who's to argue with that."

Hanala let out a gasp as she listened to what he said to her. Did he… did he just say that to her? This was far beyond just Saleb; he had just called her out for what he assumed was her burying her head instead of confronting what happened. What part of Saleb had to come first did he not understand? She had no time to be a selfish woman when she had a child she needed to tend to.

"So not only are you lecturing me through a proxy," Hanala breathed like poison. "Now you're saying that everything you did was _cathartic_!?"

To his credit, Joachim remained perfectly calm despite Hanala opening room for a massive fight. He shook his head and tried to take her hand. He frowned as she batted it away and stepped back.

"It wasn't cathartic; it's only added to the pile of corpses to my name," he admitted to the furious woman. "It's a lesson I've learned far too late. When I say that revenge is a motivator, I'm not always talking literally. Saleb's vengeance can be a teaching experience. It could help her to vent her rage so that when she's older she doesn't do something as foolish as I did. She can be constructive instead of destroying herself looking for misguided vengeance."

Hanala's nostrils flustered. She hated to admit that he might have had something there. A simmering revenge over years could lead to doing things that Saleb did not need to be haunted by. While it started to make some sense, she still did not want to admit that. She was rightfully angry that he could not wait and consult her about it first.

"What are you teaching her exactly…" Hanala demanded to know, her tone grumpy as she glared at the offending man. "Why was she laughing? If you're teaching how to knife fight it is so not okay."

The stupid, sexy bastard could only smile at her and her dramatic tone. She wanted nothing more than to kiss and smack him hard.

"All that she is learning are quick, self-defence blows that are capable of stunning attackers if done right. I was showing her how to punch my solar plexus and she was laughing when I was explaining the effects the hit will induce when she's strong enough," was his explanation as though it was all alright. "She's quite a quick learner. Give her another two or three months and that little fist of hers will start knocking down teenagers of both genders."

Hanala's eyes widened completely.

"What…no… _No_!" she stuttered at him. "Saleb is not ready for that yet. She's too young for you to start filling her head full of ancestor-damned hand to hand combat training. I- I forbid it!"

Joachim's smirk only widened as he crossed his arms. He was finding her resistance to him amusing.

"You forbid it now?" he repeated incredulously.

Hanala nodded, her hand reached up and grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. It took all of her effort to bring his head down to her level. Her sharp teeth were bared at the human menacingly.

"I forbid it, Joachim _Wilbur_ Hoch," she growled lowly. "Saleb doesn't need to think that taking a knife to someone solves problems."

All the humour vanished from Joachim's face. He wasn't scared of her posturing, instead he looked angry; way beyond angry. Letting go of his shirt, Hanala stepped back and nervously looked at her boyfriend glaring at her. It wasn't often that he gotten this upset. It was these rare moment that made her remember that Joachim went extremely easy on her.

"I am sorry you feel that way, but the moment that _you_ decided to risk _her_ life by sticking to me, even after failing to understand my repeated warnings was the moment I had assume taking the responsibility of _her_ safety out of _your_ hands," Joachim voice hardened into a tone that told her he wasn't looking for an argument. "I don't _care_ if you are uncomfortable with that. If you want to be with me, Saleb being taught to fight at a young age is _non-negotiable_."

Hanala wanted nothing better than to protest his stance. Joachim however was not about to give her any room to give her defence against the most logical argument Joachim had at hand. He might have been paranoid when he wanted to end things, but now that his head was clear; his argument for safeguarding made much more sense.

Still, she could not shake the feeling that there was something wrong with teaching a child to fight. Perhaps she was engaging in the weaker argument because for the first time, she was seeing this new side to him. It was a paternal instinct; it was still a very rough draft, but it was there in the way he was speaking to her. It was rather attractive.

"She is weak, Hanala. Her immune system, her dependence on technology, your Mother and Father, you, along with Veyare and Rael's coddling. All of these factors have left her small and frail and worse… _unconfident_ ," Joachim pressed on, his voice still edged as Hanala looked up at him in a daze. "She's about to make a home on a violent and unforgiving planet, she's going to need to be strong. I can do that. I can teach her to fight, exercise, and handle firearms when she's older."

He trailed off and looked away for a brief moment. He looked almost lost. Huffing to himself, he turned back to her. As Hanala absorbed the uncomfortable truth, she felt his hands dropped down onto her shoulders.

"I can't…. I can't be like you to her. I cannot spare her time for a childhood," Joachim continued, his voice strained but significantly toned back. "My parents didn't do that for me and I vowed I would do the exact opposite. I would be a soft, easy going father. The children in my life were spoiled rotten by me, so that is what I did not long ago; and you know how that turned out?"

Ignoring the rare mention of his parents, Hanala felt her stomach drop. She knew exactly where this was going.

"Well… you should know. You had to cut all those children off that oak tree," Joachim confirmed her suspicions, the memory hitting Hanala like a hard fist. "All the Langer children ended up dead and none of them knew how to fight back in the slightest. They might have been young, but… but I had ample time to teach them what I knew; and maybe it could have made a difference…"

Hanala placed one hand on his side.

"Joachim… that wasn't your _responsibility_ and you know it," Hanala reminded him with a low whisper. "That was their Father's job. It wasn't your fault that Gerald wanted his family to adhere to traditional age and gender roles."

Joachim's lost expression hardened once again. It was clear that he did not want to believe that truth just yet. He still needed to blame himself for what had happened. He blamed himself for the failings of her and the rest of the Admiralty Board. It should have been that took a more active role in securing their lives. Instead they served as tools to keep Joachim working for Halid'Zorah…

"Well he's dead too and I'm the only one left. I had a part to play in their safety, so do not disregard my role," was his dead voiced response to her reassurance. "I had eight years to do something; they were all so soft and timid. Being timid is a mind cancer that I didn't try to rectify…"

He trailed off and blinked furiously. Hanala knew that his pride stood in the way of drying the build-up of water in his eyes.

"Well, I won't make that same mistake again, Hanala. If all I bring to the table for Saleb is personal strength, then I have done the right thing," he assured her. "God forbid if Saleb... if she ends up in a situation where the conclusion is inevitable death just like the Langer children, then she'll die standing up and strong."

Hanala felt faint by the haunting shift in conversation. Joachim was talking about preparing a child to… to die. It was absolutely messed up. So why did it make so much sense that he took this approach. The pathetic way the Langer family met their ending would dictate how Joachim approached a family of his own. He couldn't have what happened happen again. Preparedness was the only way he could consent to taking a father role to the girl.

"I understand Joachim, I really do; sometimes it's hard to see that," Hanala murmured to Joachim after the pause between them. "I pretend that no harm will ever come to her, and yes I have gone easy on her for obvious reasons. I'm both happy you're there doing this and terrified that it's going to wreck her childhood."

Joachim did not reply at first. He took a step close and bent slightly to press his lips against her. He pulled back, his hand touching against her facial scaring.

"It won't ruin her childhood. You'll be there to kick my ass if I go overboard," he assured her, his voice once again lighter. "I think we know how to balance innocence and strength for her. I won't let her kill someone until she's at least 16."

Choosing not to laugh at the grim little joke, Hanala simply nodded and wrapped her arm around his waist. Silently they moved together in the direction of the lounge.

"Also, whatever you do, do not bring this up to her," Joachim suddenly spoke, his hand squeezing her shoulder. "I made her swear you would not be told. I'd hate to have her think I caved in… like… thirty fucking seconds after you demanded an answer."

Hanala could not help herself but laugh at just how tamed he now was. She had a few things she could call him for being so whipped, but he decided to save them for another time.

"Well think of it this way: It's teaching her how to keep a secret," Hanala pointed out.

Joachim looked at her for a moment, then smiling he nodded in agreement with her excuse.

Burying herself deeper into his side, she peered up at him. She felt both utterly safe in his arms and absolutely sad that his three day pass as drawing to a conclusion that he would soon be back on Earth risking his life. It might have been the beginning of the end and her and her people would soon be revealed to the people of Earth, but she could not help but feel scared despite everything.

She had something to lose.

"I love you, Joachim," she murmured up to him. "You're annoying and you're totally damaging my niece, but I love you."

She felt his lips touch the top of her head. Sighing and still a little uncomfortable that Joachim had to take the stance of combat instructor to a child, she shifted in place and looked up at him.

"I love you too," he returned. His voice suddenly grow slay as he added, "I think I'm getting this guardian thing down."

The issue set aside for the time being, the two of them wandered back to the lounge. Instead of fighting, it was silently decided by both of them to enjoy what was left of Joachim's leave instead.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Herr Reichsführer, I came as soon as I could."

Looking up from his paperwork and dinner, Reichsführer and now the virtual head of National Socialist Germany Heinrich Himmler stood up to greet his latest adjutant; Oberführer Hermann Fegelein with a smile and a handshake.

It had been quite some time since Himmler was with what he considered a friend. Ever since the beginning of the pacification of the rebellion, Himmler kept himself on the move in fear of complacency. He knew and did not underestimate the effective tracking power possessed by the aliens backing the rebellion. He was never in the same spot twice and stayed well outside of Greater German Reich. Because of the vast importance of the Eastern Front both sides agreed that no disruptions could take place east of the Greater German Reich borders. It was the closest thing to a neutral zone for both factions.

"Thank you for your expediency, Fegelein," Himmler greeted the younger man. "Can I get you anything?"

Eying the Reichsführer carefully, the Oberführer shook his head.

"If it's not too much trouble, I would like the reason why I've been called away from my post," Fegelein smarmily responded as he sat down without asking fort permission, his hand flattening out his hair as he looked up to Himmler. "The exact same post you wanted me in place in order to cut Wilhelm Bittrich's throat if he does anything stupid."

The smile Himmler was wearing slowly vanished. He did not reply right away as he took a seat behind his desk, pulling his keys from his pocket in order to open the desk drawer. Pulling a folder out, he handed it over to Fegelein, who eyed it suspiciously before reaching out to take it. Himmler was quicker and pulled it out of Fegelein's reach.

"I have a task for you that supersede all matters relating to one disgruntled Waffen-SS General," he spoke to the Oberführer plainly. "This task is not to be discussed under any circumstances. Are we clear?"

Realizing a little slowly the seriousness of the Reichsführer, Fegelein nodded. With that, Himmler placed the file in front of him.

"You will take these documents to the IG Farben facility in Waldenburg, Saxony. Move fast and light to them," Himmler informed his adjutant softly. "They will provide you with trucks and specialists. From there they will drive you and the cargo down to meet Herr Otto Skorzeny just north of Linz, Austria. You have just under a month to complete this task. I'm giving you a wide time table for the sake of moving through rebel held territory safely."

Latching his fingers together, he watched as Fegelein continued to read the report. His eyes narrowed as he looked up to meet the Reichsführer's stare.

"One question: _Isopropyl methylphosphonofluoridate_ … May I at least know the cargo without the scientific lingo and why I need to bring one hundred pounds of it to Otto Skorzeny?" he queried Himmler.

Reaching under his desk, he pulled a brandy bottle and glass out and liberally poured his Oberführer a drink. He slid the glass across the table and turned his expression into a grim expression. Like the Führer, he too had problems with it, but in desperate times called desperate measure. It had to be done.

"You will be in possession of one hundred pounds of a concentrated nerve agent known as Sarin gas," he informed Hermann. "The gas itself is many times more toxic then that of any gas deployed in the last war. Skorzeny will be presenting the quarians with a gift they have long deserved…"

Realizing the full implication of what was about to be conducted against the Alien menace, Fegelein drank from his glass heavily.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes Clean up, scaling back, angst removal**

 **I would love to remove lots of the Kass stuff, but she plays a significant role in the series.**


	15. The Battle of Kiel

**Chapter Fifteen: The Battle of Kiel**

 **…**

 _"Command this is Sigrid III. You're not going to believe this, but they've deployed children into battle! About ten little shits came screaming out of nowhere! They managed to disable several Panzer IV's with grenades and charges placed into the tracks. I'm requesting we are sent panzer recovery vehicles and that the armour fall back from the assault. There is significantly less armour than anticipated, and we have limited countermeasures against all this infantry."_

"Denied, we need you to continue disabling garrisons. Set up a perimeter and relay exact position. I will deploy a company for escort duty to meet you in an hour, two at the most."

 _"An hour!? I could lose more vehicles and it could stall our attack into the staging point of the Loyalists. What am I supposed to do to these rats? I can't very well get out of my Königstiger and give these little bastards a good ass paddling!"_

Staring at his radio set long and hard, Joachim could not believe the quagmire he was now staring into. Why was it that the situation was always the worst just before it got better?

"Hertzer, all of my deployed infantry is tied down supporting attacks across the city. I know you're unaccustomed to not getting my full attention, but you still have to wait for reinforcements," Hoch snapped back at the beleaguered taskforce commandant. "Defend your vehicles with every means at your disposal…" he paused for a moment and added. "I don't care how young they are, you are to engage them with lethal force if they present a clear threat."

There was a long pause on the radio. Hertzer, like Hoch was uncomfortable about the command, but also like Hoch, Hertzer understood that the order was not being called out on a whim. If the children were dangerous, then they had to be dealt with accordingly. Hoch could not risk his men any more than Hertzer could his panzers and their crews.

 _"Hoch, I'm not sure…"_ Hertzer started to protest the command. He paused, and amended himself. _"Disregard last broadcast… order understood Herr Oberst; Sigrid III out."_

As Hertzer's broadcast signed off, Joachim pushed his chair backwards. Close to losing his temper thanks to the steadily worsening conditions, Joachim stood up from his seat, his hands behind his head as he glared down at the sound of gunfire and chatter over his radio set. All of this was a madness he was permitting to happen. Worse still, it could have altogether be avoided had the quarians stood up and did something months ago.

But that was not to be. No, instead the attack on Kiel was now into its fourth week. It had gotten to such a frightening level that it was now being called the Stalingrad of the Baltic by the Sixth Army survivors Hoch's regiment took in. It was certainly not an exaggeration. A full army was slapped together and summoned from the occupation in South Germany to join in the siege against the National Socialists defenders.

Like Stalingrad before it, how the bombed out shell of Kiel managed to keep withstanding the brutal combination of siege and attack was a surprise, but at least now Joachim could see the end was in sight. The madness that was Kiel was about to be pacified. No matter how many children they threw at his panzers.

He knew this was happening because of the above statement: whoever was in charge of the defence of the city was now throwing young boys filled with lies into the battle against battle hardened soldiers. That was the surest sign that despite the brutal street to street fighting Kiel was locked into for nearly thirty straight days; the battle was coming to a desperate end. With any luck it would be sooner rather than later.

As he passed by, the newly minted Third Battalion Commandant, Major Ernst-August Clamor Franz Albrecht Erich Leo Freiherr von dem Bussche-Streithors, or if he did not go by his prissy full noble name, Axel Freiherr von dem Bussche-Streithorst, looked up from his hand set to the Oberst heading to the regiment leadership gathering. A year younger then Hoch, Axel had a slight annoying way about him; like he needed to impress the significantly more experienced Hoch.

Joachim could overlook the issues he had. Axel came highly recommended by Oberst Von Stauffenberg. He was about to approach the young Major when the Major approached him and confirmed what they were suspecting that the Sicherheitsdienst des Reichsführers-SS, or SD for short, was carrying out mass murder. His witnessing of the slaughter in Dubno, Poland confirmed every document Heinz Heydrich had stolen from his brother. Axel, according to Stauffenberg, declared to him that after this there were only three ways left to preserve his honour as an officer: to die in battle, to desert, or to rebel against the government that had ordered this and all other massacres. Naturally he chose rebellion, justifying his intention to rebel by his legal right to defend others against unlawful, criminal attacks.

Although as noble as he might have been by birth Claus von Stauffenberg privately conceded to Joachim that when they met, Axel had been playing around with the suicide bomber concept in order to assassinate Hitler. Hoch had to admit that took some serious guts on his part.

"My scouts are reporting there's been a full rebellion of the Kriegsmarine stationed in the city," the Major reported to the Oberst briskly. "They control the naval bases and their Marines are pushing into the industrial zone. Most of the ships are out of harbour but there are several surface ships in dock. Perhaps we could convince them to turn those naval guns onto the city. "

As Hoch saluted an artillery crew on break, the entire area was deafened by a barrage of moaning. The rocket artillery men had launched another salvo of surface to surface Nebelwerfer rockets into the heart of Kiel. It was so loud that every man had to cover their ears as the rockets by the dozens flew over their heads.

Growling as his ears rung out, he turned to the artillerymen. He had no desire to end up deaf by thirty.

"Tell those rocket troops to deploy 200 feet further away from their deployment! If they give you shit about their range, tell them I'm going to be up there in an hour making sure they listened!" he screamed at them, pointing violently in the direction of the smoke trails the rockets left behind.

Watching as the crew scattered in the direction of where the Nebelwerfers were deployed, Hoch turned back to the Major.

"The Kriegsmarine are very touchy about getting involved in the sort of business we're in. They apparently want to come out of the war as good doers," he informed the newcomer. "Still, it's good idea; try to get the radio frequencies used by the Kriegsmarine."

The two of them continued down the pathway until they entered an improvised structure, built with sandbag walls and camouflage netting as a ceiling. Gathered in the area smoking was Peiper, Stauffenberg and a group of company commandants not yet deployed to the battle zone, including a nervous looking Helmut Mann. Like Hoch, Mann was standing at the edge of his hometown, watching it be pounded into dust by both sides.

Saluting them, Joachim gestured to the chairs.

"Be seated," he requested. "As ugly as it all appears, the advance into the city is well underway. Generalmajor Von Manteuffel's statistical analysers have estimated the enemy has no more than several days of ammunition left to defend the city. Courtesy of Major Streithorst's forward scouts, the Kriegsmarine has undertaken liberation efforts as well. If the Kriegsmarine are not utterly incompetent in ground fighting and cause enough disruption behind their line, Kiel will be ours in two days."

There was some low murmuring from the men at the knowledge that the Kriegsmarine was involved in the fighting officially. For the most part the Kriegsmarine kept their hands clean and their focus directed towards combating the Allies shipping.

"It is not all good news," Hoch pressed on over their conversations. "We're now faced with a matter in which we must all be on the same page as. According to Oberleutnant Dieter Hertzer it appears that the regional Gauleiter has deployed the local Hitlerjugend into the fight. They disabled several of his armoured units. He has stopped his advance and is waiting for infantry cover."

There was an uncomfortable silence as they slowly realized just where Joachim was going with this statement.

"What do you expect from us? What are you telling us?"

The question came from Hauptmann Gerhard Feyerabend. His unit depleted after two weeks of straight fighting in the Kiel suburbs, he was kept on reserve for the time being. Silently Joachim locked eyes with the old Hauptmann.

"You know what I want, Hauptmann Feyerabend," he addressed the question plainly. "There can be no mercy granted to them. Age cannot be a factor in this. They target our troops, and we will respond in kind… just as it has always been."

Next to Hoch, Stauffenberg slumped down into his seat, slightly dazed by what he was listening to.

" _They're children_ ," he whispered as though the words scared him. "This is wrong, this is terribly wrong."

Behind the Count, Joachim Peiper snorted derisively.

"They're armed combatants that have already disabled two of our Panzers and are likely the majority of snipers in the cities," Peiper replied tersely as he smoked. "We can ill afford to lose men and armour to _children_. The push to Berlin will require all the firepower we possess. We need all of our firepower intact."

Stauffenberg closed his mouth, like Hoch he may not have liked what the conversation was about, but he knew that there could not be much of a display of pity towards the children indoctrinated into the Hitlerjugend. They would be dealt with delicately when the battle was over, but here and now in the middle of a death spiral of a battle, they could ill afford ignoring a viable, paramilitary force, whose ideology was centred on Hitler being a living God in their world.

True believers knew better than to think Hitler was dead, and the people telling the children to go to battle certainly seemed to know better. Judging from the expressions of every face in the room, it appeared that only Peiper and he understood the extent of the education process National Socialists youth went through. They might have known about it, but they never experienced it.

"It's as I said, Oberst. If they want to take up arms against us, do not make any special attempts to coerce surrender," Hoch reiterated to Stauffenberg and the room as a whole. "You will treat them as you would if they were ten years older. If they drop their weapons, we will spare them."

A chair scrapped as overhead another Nebelwerfer launch took place. It was Helmut Mann and he looked utterly disturbed as he stared into his old friend's blank expression.

"They aren't soldiers Hoch, they're boy scouts with rifle training and a belief that they're invincible," Mann reminded the Oberst breathlessly as the last warhead moaned on its way to its target. "You're talking about killing children, not combatants… children. Hundreds of young boys will die."

"Thousands," Hoch flatly corrected the Hauptmann. "Each and every last one of them will be maimed or killed if they arm themselves with the intention of killing my men. I want your company to take two panzer recovery vehicles and secure Hertzer's flanks. You can hate my orders all you like, but you will follow them."

He turned away from the disturbed Mann and focused onto his second in command and the new arrival.

"Stauffenberg, Streithorst, I want all artillery to deploy high explosive rounds and to fire on any structure that resists the advanc-"

Without asking for permission to interfere, Mann stepped forward and stood at a state of attention in front of Hoch, cut his attention from the two aristocratic officers. Blinking, Hoch tilted his head and crossed his arms. He was trying his hardest not to strike Mann for the display of insubordination. He did not mind questioning his logic, but now was not the time to do it.

"What is it, Hauptmann."

The tone was not lost on Helmut Mann. Hoch was not about to be swayed by any argument.

"With all due respect I can't… I can't follow my orders, Herr Oberst. Not without saying my peace," Mann dared to speak out load. "You have been a proponent for following an almost morality crusade against the National Socialists for their crimes. For the most part you are right to act accordingly. But this is something altogether different. You're talking scorched earth against our hometown. That may not mean much to you, but I still have a family living here. You're also talking about treating children as legitimate combat threats. It's all madness. You said it yourself; the city will fall in a few days. We can wait them out longer then they can. "

Hoch stepped closer to the Hauptmann and old friend. Paying no attention to the glares radiating off of Peiper and Von Stauffenberg, Mann looked past all of them as he remained still. Still inspecting his near mutinous company commander, Joachim remained dead silent. Helmut was saying the right thing at the wrong time and to the wrong person.

"Kiel isn't your hometown, it isn't my hometown. It's a military target, and nothing more until it is pacified," Hoch returned finally, his voice deadly clam. "Have you learned _nothing_ since you arrived in the country? Haven't I shown you the unlimited extent of National Socialist brutality? We can't have any display of mercy for these criminals. If it takes burning our own cities down, then it must be done. For too long we have tolerated a wait and see attitude. Not again, if it takes the rest of Kiel being turned into ashes, it's an acceptable loss."

Amongst the gathering of Hauptmann, a throat was cleared. Breaking his stare down of Mann, Hoch turned and found Gerhard Feyerabend at a state of attention like Mann was. The much old man knew better than to have the same sympathy Mann possessed.

"Herr Oberst, if the good Hauptmann cannot perform his duties, then I volunteer to take his place," Feyerabend volunteered, not bothering to look at Helmut. "I don't think he understands the amount of dedication it takes on the Hitlerjugend part in order to charge Panzers with hand grenades."

Before Hoch could reply, Peiper joined Hoch's side. Still in full Waffen-SS regalia, he served as a stark reminder to the Heer men that it wasn't that long ago that Hoch and Peiper were ideological brothers in personal service to the man they fought against.

"Look on Hauptmann Mann gentlemen," Peiper crowed to the gathering of officers. "You will see a boy who Hoch made the rare mistake of promoting too quickly. When he comes back from assignment, he'll understand how leadership actually works."

Peiper looked back to the seething Mann; his teeth were bared mockingly at the emotional Heer Hauptmann.

"You cannot command with your heart," he reminded Mann as though he needed the friendly refresher. "You command with your brain and your fist ready to punish the ones shooting your men."

Mann narrowed his eyes.

"How dare you lecture me," he growled at the Obersturmbannführer. "I was in Stalingrad while you were in Germany sucking on Himmler's cock!"

It was the last thing Mann should have said.

The tension broke, Peiper's volatile attitude broke free and he lunged at Hauptmann as though they were adversaries. It took the efforts of Major Streithorst to hold back the Obersturmbannführer from his target of rage, and Stauffenberg to contain Mann, who after service with Peiper for many months, likely wanted nothing better to pummel the ideological soldier to his knees with his fists.

Joachim remained still, disgusted by the state of his officers. Sharing looks with Stauffenberg, the Oberst nodded and let go the heaving Mann, then Peiper was released by Streithorst. The two men continued to glare at each other like they were marking each other for death. Deciding to cut in, Hoch stepped in between them.

"Peiper, I don't need you antagonizing your subordinates," Hoch informed his Waffen-SS Obersturmbannführer. He turned back to Mann. He paused for a moment to watch his friend.

"Helmut, Peiper is right, you are immature and I did promote you with little planning to it," he informed his friend plainly, his voice devoid of feeling. "You were a decent Leutnant and a decent Hauptmann in a traditional combat setting. This isn't traditional warfare anymore, you need to grow up and be a real leader –adaptable and aware that you can't save everyone you sympathize with… You move out in fifteen."

Looking at his Oberst like he had been betrayed, Mann nodded curtly and left to inform his company about the morally dubious order they had been issued by their commandant. It left Joachim in a miserable state for the order he was expecting Helmut to carry out.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"He's mad, absolutely mad… Killing children, I didn't sign up for that!"_

"You were drafted; you didn't sign for anything Bohr. I don't see the problem in it. I killed armed children in Stalingrad. If anything children are more dangerous. They don't concern themselves worrying about death like an adult. It's a dirty job, but we can't give anyone a pass."

Rubbing his forehead as he awaited his Company to mobilize, Helmut Mann turned his attention to his original squad. Oster, the designated Jaeger was tinkering with his scope, Christian Bohr swapped his MG-42 for the lighter weight of the MP-43, Kurt Hammer was back to using a Flammenwerfer 41. Bless his heart; he loved setting people on fire and being a contrarian son of a bitch.

Despite the savage beating Joachim Hoch had given to him in Russia, he had really taken a shining to Hoch macabre attitude towards combating the enemy. In some ways, Hammer looked on Hoch like he was the older brother he never had. Not that Hoch would pause long enough to acknowledge his existence.

"Hoch's being an unrealistic as usual," "I get that rifles are deadly in trained hands at any age, but I know children. Scare them enough and they'll cower. Pre-emptively killing them if they pose any threat… it's unrealistic."

"Or perhaps you're the one being unrealistic."

Mann turned back and glared at the source of opposition. It was Bohr's Ukrainian, Andrusiv. She was loading her knapsack full of medical supplies. She was not looking at the collective stares looking in her direction. She was smoking as well. Not the fake or the American cigarettes issued to the men, but the real ones… Turkish cigarettes.

They were a gift from her new friend, Joachim Hoch; perks if you were feeling bitter and resentful of the Oberst. Since the Ruhr Offensive, Hoch and Tatiyana had grown attached to the man who once spit on her at every turn. At long last Tatiyana had someone else to hang off of whenever Hoch had free time, or Bohr was deployed into battle or sent on patrol.

Although it had made poor Christian uncomfortable about the friendship, he would never admit it. Bohr likely was jealous of Hoch. Hoch being the leader of the leader of the regiment, groomed by Prussian Generals was something to be envied by a Feldwebel. It did not help that Tatiyana almost always came out of meeting smiling like Hoch spent their time together. Hoch was obvious and never spoke about it, and nothing was confirmed or denied by Tatiyana, who found the question insulting when Bohr goaded Hammer into asking. All she said was that the two had a lot in common and reminded them that the alien Joachim was working with and/or screwing wasn't dead and they were very much together in the traditional sense.

For the most part Mann could never believe that Hoch would sleep with her. She was Slavic, and Hoch's blood was Germanic all the way back for hundreds of years. He would not risk it with someone he likely thought of an amusement and not an equal, the alien notwithstanding. Hoch was never like that before, but when he came back from his first year in SS school, he was never the same. Even now with his ties cut and killing his former party comrades left and right, he was still the same.

"You're siding with a man who just ordered children to be killed if they stray into combat on some misguided mission," Helmut replied tersely to the woman. "I don't think you're paying attention."

Tatiyana looked up and scowled at Helmut darkly. If there was something the Slavic's could do right, it was scowl. This was especially so if someone they respected was being insulted.

"You heard me correctly, Herr Hauptmann," she spoke back to him sternly, her voice edged. "Oberst Hoch has been tasked with an impossible decision to decide on: kill armed and dangerous children, or let his men die foolishly because they chose not to listen to his orders. If you can stand there and say that Hoch isn't affected by his choice then you are a damn fool."

She fell silent and continued her inventory of her equipment. She did not pay attention to all the eyes staring at her widely for insulting their company commandant. She might have been a civilian, but she had no right to speak to him like that.

Helmut did not speak out against it, he remained silent as Christian Bohr stepped past his squad and stood over the woman he was seeing. He looked on her oddly. After a few moments, Tatiyana closed the bag up and looked at the man she was seeing carefully.

"Hoch treated you like shit on more than one occasion, and now you're defending him; not just defending him, you're championing him," he spoke up over her. "What's with your change of heart… seriously I want to know."

Tatiyana arched her brow, smoke pouring from her nostrils.

"My change of heart came when I was watching him stick his hands into the stomachs of his own wounded men. When he spent hours working on the men he sent to fight. When I realized that he hates fighting and sending you all to meet death more than he hates the National Socialists. That was when I understood him," Tatiyana growled at Bohr. "When you idiots all finally realize that there's not always going to be a choice between a good and a bad decision, but there will always have to be a decision to be made, then perhaps you'll understand it's like to be him."

Tatiyana stood up and out of the blue, she flat out shoved Christian backwards. It was hard enough to make him stumble backwards two steps. Helmut had to admit he was surprised that the rather scrawny woman was capable of moving Bohr.

"So yes Christian, I do like Hoch. It's not in the way you have been insinuating since the Ruhr battle ended, but I do like him," Tatiyana pressed on as she stepped forward and poked Bohr in the chest again. "I realized he and I are alike in so many ways… and if you weren't so damn insecure you'd see that Hoch doesn't hide the fact that he has a pretty fucking horrifying life, and that nothing he's doing is going to make it better."

Her ravings left the men uncomfortably burdened with guilt. It was the frightening realization that Tatiyana was right that had bothered them the most. Helmut could feel his stomach roll up in knots as Tatiyana suddenly and mercilessly twisted the knife.

"You have families, you have friends, you lot have people who care for you," she pressed on without an ounce of pause. "I can only think of one person that Hoch has. Everyone … everyone else is dead or has disowned him, and I'm not inferring that, he's flat out told me that. He doesn't even have a home to go to. They burned his property and emptied his bank accounts. Other than a commission, his uniform and a few luxuries he receives –which he shares when he can- he has nothing."

Helmut shuffled in place as she listened to the woman spell out everything Hoch lost for doing the right thing. It was a stark contrast to everything he had assumed about the man. Tatiyana shook her head, she would likely be in trouble if he found out she broke his confidence and told Mann, but she did not seem to be scared of it.

She turned back to Christian and crossed her arms.

"Do you understand now? You were a friend to me when I had nothing and nobody, so I want to be a friend to him, because he needs a friend… and if none of you are comfortable with doing that, then I will," she pressed onwards, her eyes glaring into his. "And if you so much as try to berate my decision again, I will show you that Ukrainians girls are bred from birth to be self-destructive. Make me choose, and I will to end this relationship."

Christian gave a small, almost frightened nod as his girlfriend's rage subsided; he stepped back and unslung his rifle off his shoulder. Pulling on her jacket and Stahlhelm, she turned and directed her glare at the Hauptmann. If she was angry with Christian's jealousy, then she was absolutely furious with him. She knew the extent of his and Hoch's past and she was disgusted by the sheer display of apathy towards a man he considered a friend.

"And you, you are just the worst sort of person," she berated Helmut, a chilling tone sending a shiver down his spine. "I imagine having an old friend antagonize his every move isn't helping him in the slightest. He's as scared and unsure as we are; but he doesn't have the right to show it like us."

Grabbing her bag, she stormed out of Bohr, Mann, Oster and Hammer's company, leaving a void in her wake. Rubbing the back of his neck, Mann sighed. It was time to move his company out to join the grim fight.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"This is Kampfhubschrauber-Einheit 1. We are refuelled, rearmed and awaiting instructions."_

"This is Hoch; I want you low and fast. You will provide fire support assistance to the Kiel naval port and the Kriegsmarine."

 _"Understood, we're ten minutes out."_

As the pilot signed off, Hoch stood up and once again left the comforts of his Command Truck. He was quickly overwhelmed by the smoke pouring out of the Kiel warzone. Looking at his hometown for a moment he turned and continued walking down towards the forward lines.

As it turned out, Hoch grudgingly had to admit that Alaan's assessment of the usefulness of having close support air units assigned to him had made a significant dent in his thought process. Due to lack of fuel he had to use his rotor aircraft carefully. What made them useful was that the aircraft sacrificed their light machines guns and replaced them with RZ-73 anti-tank rockets. They were of sudden attacks and just as swift retreat.

As he silently debated to himself about requesting white phosphorous rockets to deploy against the enemy, one of his men –rather pudgy squat- came running towards him. Out of breath, he stopped in front of Hoch and came to attention for a moment. As Hoch nodded he gestured in the direction of his radio truck. Silently Joachim wondered what home guard unit Manteuffel scraped this man out of.

"Herr Hoch, Herr Streithorst assigned me to tracking down communicating with the Kriegsmarine pocket," the radio operator informed the Oberst. "I got connected to operations headquarters to find if they have been in contact with the Kriegsmarine in the docks. They have and they transmitted the radio frequency to me."

 _ **"-I told you bastards to keep the channel clear!"**_

Glancing to the radio operator pointedly, the man left Hoch's side.

"Harbour Salient, this is Oberst Joachim Hoch, 438th Panzergrenadier Regiment of the 7th Panzer Division," Hoch tersely introduced himself to the silenced radio operator. "My men are cutting a path through the city internal defences to relieve you sailors. I want to coordinate with your boss."

As he released the transmit button, he listened to a brief silence before the transmitter lit back up. The chaos in their radio room died down as they realized that they were finally being relieved after several days of conflict.

 _"Yes Herr Oberst. I've sent a runner; He'll be with you in a moment."_

Hoch could not help but feel satisfied at the expense of the humbled radio operator in the Kriegsmarine Salient. After several moments and two drags from his cigarette, the transmitter crackled back to life. Hoch leaned forward once again; staring at the equipment like it was alive.

 _"This is Generaladmiral Wilhelm Marschall,"_ the voice spoke over the line, strained as though he spent a lifetime shouting. _"I never thought I would be happy to hear from a dirt slogging Heer grunt. We're in quite a dilemma our way. We're running low on small arms ammunition and heavy on enemy retaliation."_

Joachim grinned to himself and waited as three STuG's assault guns escorted by a Tiger, trailed by two platoons of infantry to blow through his position before he responded to the cankerous sounding Generaladmiral.

"Understood, Herr Generaladmiral," Hoch returned to the Generaladmiral. "I'm looking at our advance; we are twelve kilometres away from the docks. Our Panzers are coming in dead straight on the naval base, coming in on our right flank. I'll radio back to you when we are close so you indecisive Kriegsmarine shitbirds can keep your fingers off the trigger."

Although he felt a little bad calling the Kriegsmarine 'shitbirds', the Generaladmiral was far less reserved. He broke out into a wild laugh at the insult. Hoch let out a sigh of relief, if it had been a Heer officer he would have had to listen to a two hour lecture about respecting your superiors.

"Generaladmiral, how are you for fire support?" Hoch pressed on, redirecting the Generaladmiral back to the topic at hand.

There was a brief pause.

 _"The cruiser Nürnberg and destroyer Z28 are all that we possess here. We launched all our other vessels into the Baltic the moment we began our uprising. They're relocating to Wilhelmshaven now,"_ Marschall informed him. _"We're hesitant to fire on the city for obvious reasons. The civilians have been ordered to stay in their homes by the Gauleiter."_

Joachim did not reply at first. He figured it was for the best that he not tell the Generaladmiral the extent of damage inflicted by the Heer in the effort to break the defenders. Instead he stood up and dropped his dying cigarette onto the ground.

"Understood, I have low flying aerial support attached to my unit. I am sending them to your position," Hoch informed the admiral. "They will identify to you as _Kampfhubschrauber-Einheit 1_ , or _KH-1_. Mark your targets and they'll strafe them."

There was a pause for a moment on the Kriegsmarine end.

 _"What in the hell is an attack helicopter?"_ Marschall demanded to know from Joachim his voice incredulous.

"You'll know them when you see it," the Oberst replied as he heard distant thumping and turned to look in the direction. "They're also spotters for artillery. It will help you utilize the _Nürnberg's_ armaments accurately."

As Joachim watched as the thumping turned into shapes in the sky, laughter erupted from Generaladmiral Marschall.

"We don't need spotters. We're the Kriegsmarine," the old man proudly bragged. "Unlike you lot we actually hit what we need to shoot."

As twelve helicopters he assigned to support the defence of the salient flew over his head, Hoch waved out to them in a mark of good luck and support. As they blew by him he dropped his back down to the phone in his hand. Good luck, Hangman; when everything settles down, we'll have lunch with your CO together. Generaladmiral Marschall out."

The Admiral hung up; leaving Joachim confused by the grim title he had been afforded.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It was clear now that it would not be the rifle fire or artillery shells that would turn her deaf one day; it would be the shrill screaming Tatiyana Andrusiv had to endure while she was treating the wounded. Fuck, could Germans ever shout nonsense when they were hurt. She should have requested ear protection.

Tatiyana looked up to the burn patient she was tending to. He was a young Gerfeiter, whose hand was burnt in the heat of battle with Allgemeine-SS troops. Thankfully it was minimal causalities, only two dead, fifteen wounded. It had been a lucky engagement. The Allgemeine-SS bandits were unprepared to face a fully armed Panzergrenadier company. At least a dozen died on their side before they withdrew.

As the pile of blonde hair mopped his hair backwards with his healthy hand Tatiyana leaned inwards and pressed her cool hand against his cheek. The young blue eyed boy blushed at the affection Tatiyana was faking. If there was one thing that young wounded soldiers needed the most outside of a doctor, it was a pretty face – even one as beaten up as hers. It was sort of a natural morphine, really.

With him stupefied, Tatiyana tightened the bandaging over his hand and stood up off the rubble she was treating his injury on. She helped the young man back onto his feet as well.

"Next time you'll know better than to bare hand change out an MG-42 barrel, Gerfeiter," Tatiyana chastised him kindly. "Have the medics change the bandaging in no later than two days."

The boy nodded dumbly and pulled on his Stahlhelm once again.

"Thank you, Fraulein Andrusiv."

Tatiyana nodded and watched as the boy went to go and re-join his MG-42 loader and spotter, both of them talking excitedly and looking in the direction of Tatiyana. To them she was the Slavic maiden they were not allowed to fraternize with in Hitler's regime, built now things were different. It was kind of funny, really. Not that they would do anything when she was seeing their Feldwebel.

Packing her bag once again she joined the three of the company medics -Lehmann, Baten and Hartl. The three of them were dividing their medical equipment while the unit was reorganizing. Tatiyana sat down next to them. Lehmann was the only one to look and smile to her.

"Nothing to worry about just yet from Holz," Tatiyana informed the medics. "Lack of brains cannot be cured."

The three men chuckled at the idle comment.

"No kidding," Hartl agreed with her. "I swear they assign the stupid ones to MG-42 crews….with exception to you, Feldwebel…"

Tatiyana looked back and found it was Christian who was standing there behind them. He grinned slightly to the medical team. Tatiyana grinned as well, but noticed that Christian's amused expression was strained. He appeared a stressed, not just combat stress. It was something different.

"I have a matter you can help me with Tatiyana. Interested?" Christian inquired.

Tatiyana slung her bag over her shoulder, stood up and nodded. Silently the couple moved through the rubble and men. It was still a little awkward having admitted to Bohr about her small, tiny physical attraction to the Oberst. Still, they were professional enough to address it when the fighting died down. She fully expected an earful from him, but she would be ready.

"We ran into a civilian," Christian informed her finally. "We figured you could check him out while the Hauptmann questioned him."

Tatiyana looked at the Feldwebel in plain confusion. When was an order issued to interrogate civilians? She was not about to question it, but it just seemed a very odd thing to do.

Waiting for Bohr and Tatiyana was the answer. It was Hauptmann Mann standing with Kurt Hammer, who was clutching onto the shoulder of a rather dirty looking teen boy donning a workman outfit. It became instantly clear to her why the interrogation was taking place. He was the right age to be Hitlerjugend.

Still, the boy did not look Hitlerjugend. For starters, they did not shave their heads. He looked like he worked in some sort of industry position. Perhaps he was assigned to the war effort.

"Hauptmann, we found this boy rooting around in our Opel truck," Bohr addressed Helmut. "He was unarmed when we found him, but he was in a munitions truck…"

Helmut nodded and turned to face the boy presented to him. He kept his head low, servile. He appeared to have been scared.

"What are you _doing_ out here in the open?" Mann inquired, his hands behind his back as he looked at the cowering boy.

The boy held his eyes downcast from his captor.

"I live nearby and saw the truck parked. I'm just looking for food for my parents," the teen admitted to the officer. "I'm sorry, I didn't intend to steal ammunition or weapons, I meant to look for food or medicine or something. I don't want to steal but… but my parents sick. They needed help."

The boy was stammering now, clearly afraid of the rebels he was likely told to hate and fear since the beginning of the civil war. Mann lightened his expression somewhat and stepped closer to the teenager.

"It's fine, boy… hey I get it. I'm from Kiel as well, you know," Mann informed the boy with a kind smile. "I heard a rumour that they're deploying Hitlerjugend. Tell me that it's not true."

The boy looked up to Mann as he took the question. With watering eyes, he nodded.

"I wish it wasn't true but it is. All the boys I know are scared, they're being sent to war," the boy confirmed to the group watching him. "I'm exempted from combat service. I broke my wrist terribly, so I apprentice under my Father as a welder..."

As Mann nodded and continued to listen to the boy, Tatiyana faded out. She silently watched the Hauptmann and the wielder interact. She did not know what it was about the situation, but it felt suddenly off. She looked at the boy more and more carefully. She knew welders back in Ukraine. She knew that they were often burnt with the occasional flecks of steel. Other than the dirt and grime, the boy was smoothed skin… and he didn't look hungry. He looked… he looked well fed.

Tatiyana's eyes widened. There was likely only one group in the city that was fed as well as possible.

The defenders…

"Tell us where your parents are and we'll see if I can arrange a transport for them out of the city-"

" _ **MANN**_!" Tatiyana suddenly screamed out at the Hauptmann.

Mann looked up, but it was too late. The boy reached into Bohr's belt, pulled out his bayonet and plunged it deep into Mann. Helmut gave a blood curdling scream as the boy plunged the knife over and over again into his chest; the boy paid no attention to Bohr and Oster trying to wrench the boy off of Mann. Again and again the knife ended up inside the screaming Hauptmann.

With one final stab into Mann, Bohr finally snapped out of his shock and hit the boy hard in the head with the butt of his Sturmgewehr. The boy collapsed and fell off the gaping Mann, his hands shaking as he clutched onto this many wounds. His mouth was already dripping blood as his body convulsed.

Bohr was the first one up. He looked on his friend and Kameraden with wide, shocked eyed. He turned back to Hammer.

" _Hammer, lock that little shit up!_ " he barked as the rest of the company realized what was happening. " _Tatiyana,_ _ **HELP**_ _**ME**_!"

Tatiyana dropped down next to the Helmut Mann. He was staring up at her with wide, confused eyes. All he knew was that he was in terrible pain. Tatiyana let out a gasp as she realized that there was next to nothing she could do. The boy missed his heart, but he made up with it with the sheer amount of stabs he made into him.

Next to her, Bohr placed his hands onto the wounds as Tatiyana was doing. He looked like a lost child as the unit was suddenly hit from all direction by rifle and machine gun fire.

"You have to stop the bleeding, Tatiyana," he ordered her as though it was able to be done. "You have to save him! _Please_!"

Tatiyana could not tell Christian the truth… Mann was dead already. There was nothing short of a hospital that could save him now. Christian did not stick around. Wiping his eyes, he picked up his rifle and started firing on the ambush. It wasn't long until she was alone with the dying Mann, who was clutching onto her jacket.

Tatiyana turned back to him. She willed herself not to cry as the pallid man looked up at her with panicked eyes.

 _"h-he… h…he right… he right. Hoch… right."_

As bullets kicked up nearby, Tatiyana noticed what appeared to be cellar doors. She did not have time to debate it. She slung her medical bag over her shoulders and grabbed onto his arms. Perhaps he would have a chance in some cover, somewhere where she could work on him properly.

"Hang on, Mann," Tatiyana demanded from the Hauptman. "Just hang on!"

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Hoch had to admit, he was excited. It was a cautious excitement, but it was certainly a time to rejoice.

Hertzer had reported in at 06:13 the next day. His armour had broken through to the other side of the inner citadel defences of Kiel. They had smashed through the defenders and were on the other side now creating a link between his men and the beleaguered marines, sailors and auxiliary personal of the Kriegsmarine. Within an hour, two more lines were cut through by the other Regiments in the 7th Panzer Division. It wasn't long after that that the Kriegsmarine and the Panzer Division were coordinating further attacks into the Kiel Industrial zone – the only place spared from the artillery fire.

Kiel, it seemed, was taken from the National Socialists and the Loyalist defenders. The port city, Hoch's hometown was under his control. That was where his caution still existed. The fighting hadn't ended, and if anything, the fighting increased in scope; but the fighting was futile last gasps fighting against the inevitable. Dangerous of course, but in the grand scheme, it was pointless.

Looking up from his report, he found his battalion command officers standing before him in their makeshift briefing room. All of them were running on empty and as they drank coffee and smoked, they were also waiting eagerly for what he knew. Taking off his cap, he slumped into the seat next to Major Streithorst, who poured a cup for the Oberst. Nodding thankfully, he took it from him.

"As you can guess, the spine of the defence has been broken, and we have linked up with the Kriegsmarine," Hoch announced to the three men as he sipped his drink. "The city is essentially ours. It's all a matter of pacification and finding the Gauleiter if he hadn't ended his life or escaped yet."

Any elation they might have had for their victory was cut off as Hoch predicted what the man who rallied the defence of the city would do, and that it was likely he would not be punished for not handing the city over weeks ago.

"Look on the bright side," Peiper spoke first as his palm pressed against his forehead. "The Americans and British will cease their bombing campaign against the city when they realize that we turned Kiel into rubble for them."

A dark laughter emitted amongst the officers. Even Hoch had to find humour as he looked out his burning rubble of a hometown.

"It's not over yet," Hoch murmured, listening to the sound of distant small arms firing from inside the city. "I want the artillery fire to be scaled back. I want all my companies split up and deployed for search and destroy missions against the pockets of resistance. Take it nice and careful, gentlemen."

Entering the briefing room, a clean cut Feldwebel radio operator stood at attention. Hoch looked his way and gestured the soldier to approach. The Feldwebel obliged and joined the senior officers. There was a teletype message in his hand. He stood in front of the relaxing Oberst, the message outstretched to him.

"A message from Generalmajor Von Manteuffel, Herr Hoch," the Feldwebel informed the Oberst eying him.

Joachim nodded and took the letter. The Feldwebel saluted and left the gathering of officers to stare at Hoch and the message in his hand. Realizing he had to oblige their curiosity, Joachim opened the letter. After a moment of silence, he read the document aloud.

 _"Men of the 7th Panzer Division,_

 _Congratulations are in order but premature at this time. Kiel is still contested on paper, but the grand efforts to break through the city inner defences and connect with our Kriegsmarine brothers has been a momentous psychological victory against the waning Reich. Although peace will not come without the man who threw children at the Heer, you can rest at long last and clean the city out at a safer pace._

 _With Kiel captured the Kriegsmarine, Luftwaffe and the Heer have once again reunited the Wehrmacht for the most part. While loyalists hold onto a fleeting hope and suffer threats from the SD, surely National Socialist occupied Germany is reeling in the realization that the end is near. It will not be long before the insanity of the National Socialists collapse. We have suffered dearly. Many were killed for our righteous reaction to the suicide course that mad Austrian forced us onto, they will be avenged._

 _Reports are coming in from Berlin that Berlin itself is in the grips of a resistance war waged by civilians and Heer men. With Berlin no longer safe, it is likely the majority of SS forces will be withdrawing to District Berlin to attempt to pacify the growing discontent and to prepare for the inevitable arrival of us. As soon as Kiel is pacified, we turn our sights to the capital and finally cut the head off the National Socialist serpent._

 _Remain vigilant and stay safe. This war will soon be over and the country will be ours once again!_

 _Generalmajor Hasso von Manteuffel_

 _Commandant,_

 _7th Panzer Division"_

"Hans-Gerd von Rundstedt and Heinz Heydrich started the rebellion with a bunch of civilians," Stauffenberg spoke as Hoch folded the announcement back up. "I hope they're staying safe; dangerous business, usurping law and order in Berlin. Brother against brother in this case. Reinhard must be pissed off."

As Hoch listened to Stauffenberg discuss the Berlin resistance in all the details he possessed, Hoch noticed out of the corner of his eye Joachim Peiper was looking out towards the city, binoculars over his eyes. He lowered them and turned to Hoch.

"You should see this, Hoch. It's your Ukrainian mascot."

Looking in the direction of Peiper, he dismissed himself from the Count's company and joined Peiper, taking the binoculars and squinted through them. Sure enough he could see Tatiyana. Her arms and chest were covered in blood, and behind her, in her hand she was dangling a Walther pistol. She was guiding just over a dozen civilians through the checkpoint into the rebel secured zone. She was as dead eyed as she had been when he first met her. Suddenly, she staggered slightly and collapsed.

Dropping the binoculars, and pushing by Peiper, Joachim climbed out of the command post and bolted down in her direction. Noticing what the Oberst was doing, he had a platoon following him to the weeping civilians and Tatiyana, who wasn't physical, injured, but she was utterly worn out. She was back onto her feet but she was on fragile footing.

As he approached them, Tatiyana and the civilians came to a halt as soon she realized that Hoch was storming towards her. She was only metres away before Hoch slowed down his pace and came to a halt. He remained silent as his hand reached out and wrapped around the pistol. She made no resistance as he took it and handed it back to the Leutnant who followed him.

"Andrusiv… _Tatiyana_ , what happened?" Joachim demanded as he stood there mouth agape at her blood soaked state.

Tatiyana remained silent as the grave. She refused to look up at him. It was as though she thought that Hoch would be ashamed of her. Her silence only served to drive sudden fear into his heart. She looked close to tears. Over the past month or so he had come to find Tatiyana Andrusiv as the hardest woman he had ever met in his entire life. She made Hanala look like a little girl in comparison. If here she stood near tears, then something terrible had happened all right.

 _"Helmut Mann…"_ she murmured to him, unable to meet his eyes. _"Mann is gone, Joachim."_

Joachim stood there silence as he attempted to process the impossible words the Ukrainian had dared to speak. He watched as her normally sturdy demeanour slowly collapse before his eyes.

"We were about to link up with the Panzers, but they... they killed them…" she slurred out as she held her head low and attempted not to cry. "You were right, he tried to… and they killed him. He lingered until early morning… but… you were right, oh God… you were _right_ …"

Hoch stepped back from her as his mind refused to digest what Tatiyana was saying to him. Mann… he was dead? No... That wasn't right. Mann was supposed to survive this… nothing ever bad happened to Helmut Mann. He was well off; he got out of Stalingrad before it turned into a nightmare. He could not have been dead…

As he denied Tatiyana's words, rationality quickly overwhelmed him, and the pang of guilt shot through his heart. Mann was dead. Helmut Mann, his boyhood friend, who, while they had their issues, had years and years of history together, was dead. Rationality quickly surged in to a sudden flash of rage. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared and he reared his expression of sheer foaming rage at the fatigued woman.

 _ **"WHY IN THE FUCK DIDN'T MANN'S XO RADIO THIS IN?!"**_ he exploded at her.

Her frightened expression made him instantly regret taking that tone. He stepped back from her, ignoring the stares of the civilians as she listened to the woman openly weep.

" _I don't know…_ the fighting was heavy, we got attacked right away. I think that was what they wanted to do… send a boy down there and kill the leader, and then the rest of the boys attack in the chaos. I… I dragged him into a cellar and stayed behind with him while the company pressed the attack. That's where I found this lot. He died a few hours ago. I... am _sorry_ … I should hav-"

Shushing the suddenly panicked Tatiyana, Joachim looked up into the eyes of the fifteen civilians she had guided singlehandedly through the city. They were old, young, men, women and children; but they all shared one trait. They were almost as thin as the Jews he had scraped out of the camps. They all looked at him with empty accusing stares. He was a part of the mechanism that laid siege to the city. Six weeks was a long time to suffer a food shortage…

Hoch turned away from the huddled masses and looked back at the Leutnant and his silent platoon. Ignoring the pounding in the pit of his gut, caused by the realization that he had lost more than just a Hauptmann, but his oldest friend he stood up, bringing Tatiyana back to her feet as well. He felt her head bury into her side as she softly sobbed.

"Leutnant, take those civilians to the mess and find something to eat for them," he ordered, his voice empty. "Get them some sleeping space too…"

The Leutnant nodded and started barking his orders out to his men. Joachim continued to clutch the woman as the men moved in and escorted the civilians away from them and back towards the staging point. Noticing Peiper and Major Streithorst watching them interact, he waved them off. The two men turned and left, leaving Joachim alone with the dead silent woman.

The two of them remained silent as the woman pulled herself away from Joachim and slumped once again to the ground. A cigarette in one hand, the other one was shaking as she fought to light her lighter. Squatting down next to her, Joachim took it from her hand and lit it her cigarette for her. He was doing his absolute best not to think about Helmut. He should not have deployed him, not when he was so damn hesitant about the directive that was issued.

Joachim watched as Tatiyana folded her legs against her chest. Her body rocking as she stared straight ahead into the city.

" _I'm sorry,"_ she moaned softly _. "I should have got to him sooner... Maybe I could have… could have…"_

Joachim did not reply. He did not want to acknowledge what had happened. Tatiyana did her best, but she was the one who had given him the bad news. All he could do now was figure just how he reacted to this cowardly act. He knew that war was dirty business and he held no illusions of just how much of a fucking bastard he was; the people of Kiel would attest to that when the dust settled down. However this attack had crossed a line not even he was capable of crossing.

Standing straight up, Joachim loomed over the woman. He outstretched his hand. The action was enough to get the lost Ukrainian to focus back on him.

"There's an open hydrant near the command post, Tatiyana," he informed her, gesturing in the direction of where half a dozen of his officers were gathered. "Go and wash up and get some sleep in my command truck. I'll be with you when I can. I've got to sort this mess out."

Tatiyana did not offer him resistance. She took his hand and pulled herself up. Stumbling in place, she allowed Joachim a wide eyed guilty expression before she turned away and walked in the direction of the officers. The officers did not remain still, they went to go and join the Oberst. The only one pausing to speak to the woman was Major Axel von Streithorst. They spoke for a moment before Tatiyana continued on to the hydrant.

Hoch brushed his hand through his hair and turned to face the gathering of ashen faced officers. They all knew what had happened. Hoch did not know what else he could say about the matter, other than a massive retaliatory strike on the remaining resistance inside the city.

He looked over and met Joachim Peiper in the eye. He remained dead silent, there was not a response, but somewhere deep in him, he could see Peiper was deeply satisfied to have been proven right. He had warned him, and because Mann ignored it, the Hauptmann found a stupid way to die.

"Major," Hoch addressed his newest battalion commandant. "Summon Gerhard Feyerabend. I need him to be reassigned out of your Battalion for the time being."

Streithorst nodded and excused himself. Hoch turned away from his men once more and looked back into the burning city. Feyerabend and his band of bitter survivors from Weilheim would be fitted into the Hauptmann Mann's company. He would not show the same sort of mercy Mann did.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Laying there on the Oberst's bed with his dog Blondi passed out on her stomach; Tatiyana could do nothing but stare at the ceiling. She had been laying there for hours according to the clock in the corner and still she could not get to sleep.

Perhaps it had been guilt keeping her awake. She had said some things she regretted saying to Mann. Mann was wrong, of course, but she should have phrased her disagreement better all that Tatiyana knew for certain was that she should have done more; she should have been quicker to get the dying Hauptmann.

It was an irrational thing to believe, but it swallowed up her true guilt. She should have spoken up about her suspicions of the boy. She should have launched herself at him or tell the armed guards that something as dead wrong with the boy. Instead she was complacent and her complacency had gotten Mann killed…

Lifting Blondi's head up, Tatiyana sat up, her hand in her head as she tried to clear her mind of thoughts that were permanently locked into her conscience now.

Her attempt did not last long. The door opened up and in climbed the furious looking Hoch. Tatiyana stood up as if in a state of attention for him. He did not acknowledge it as he slumped off his gear and fell hard into his seat. As he reached for the bottle on the table, he looked up at her and nodded. Tatiyana sat back down and watched him pour out two glasses.

They remained silent as Hoch slid the glass over to her. Together the two of them drank silently. Tatiyana's heart broke as she looked at the normally stern looking German. He looked utterly devastated with everything that had happened. Mann for better or for worse was his friend -one of his oldest friends. He might have had grievances with him, but they were friends. She nearly cried once again as Hoch closed his eyes, his hand flat over his face.

Holding back her tears, she downed her glass and watched as Hoch pulled his hand again off his face.

"Mann was a stupid, foolish, naïve bastard… but he didn't deserve that… No one deserves to die like that," Hoch rumbled finally as he set his glass down as well. "You were right; fundamentally good men are often not the brightest."

Deciding not to tell the man she never said that, Tatiyana simply nodded. He was not wrong about his depiction of Mann. Still, it was hard to accept that Hoch's grim assessment was right. Mann's last words were right, why did Hoch always have to be right?

She would not get to ask the question. Hoch refilled their glasses. As the Oberst and the Hiwi picked them up, their eyes met. Together the two of them clinked their glasses together this time. The two of them drank fast and set their glasses down, in honour of their lost mutual friend.

Hoch leaned backwards into his seat, one leg crossing over the other.

"Is the boy dead?" he asked the woman, his voice drained of emotion. His face was locked in an unreadable expression.

Tatiyana looked up at his inquiring stare. She swallowed hard. She never lied to the Oberst before, and she wasn't about to start now. Slowly she shook her head, and whispered a small prayer for the boy despite the act of evil he had committed against Helmut Mann.

"No…"she informed the Oberst slowly. "Christian had Hammer lock him up in the back of a truck. I think they wanted you to deal with him when you wanted to."

Hoch did not react to the new information. He reached into his pocket and produced his expensive cigarette case. Pulling one out, he set the case onto the table for Tatiyana to take advantage of. His lighter was dropped down next to it as he inhaled his first mouthful of smoke. He lowered his head as he fell into his thoughts. He paid no attention Tatiyana as she reached for a smoke for herself. He blinked and then looked again to her.

"How old is the boy?" Hoch asked.

She wished she had an answer. He was young, but he wasn't too young to know to know better. The little Hitlerite bastard committed his crime maliciously. It wasn't random; he and his mates went out of his way to target Mann.

"Somewhere between twelve and fourteen... maybe fifteen," she guessed for him.

Hoch nodded, and fell back into his silent brooding. He wanted to be furious, but battle fatigue was catching up to him. The act of rage was unable to be summoned at the moment. He instead remained slumped back into his seat, his fingers tapping together.

"What am I going to do?" he murmured.

It was a whisper not directed towards her by the sounds of it. Tatiyana kept her mouth shut as she breathed in her cigarette. Slowly she became very aware of how drenched her uniform was by Mann's arterial blood. Feeling suddenly faint, she looked back up and found Hoch staring at her once again.

"I'm asking for your opinion, Andrusiv," he spoke to her pointedly. "What am I going to do about this?"

Swallowing smoke without a flinch, all Tatiyana could do was shrug helplessly. She had an opinion, but she knew better than to voice it just yet. Even if they might have been friendly to each other, Hoch had an unpredictable temper and could be induced with rage if she did not say the right thing.

"I'm just a civilian volunteer, a foreign woman on top of it," she murmured lowly, no longer able to look at the Oberst in the eyes. "My opinion regarding punishment doesn't matter."

Without warning, Hoch leaned across the table and lifted her blood stained chin back up so that she could look at him properly. As soon as he was certain she was going to keep her head up, he dropped his hand, but not the expression of stern reprehend.

"If you were willing to risk your life for my men, if you are willing to stick your hands into the body of Mann when you damn well knew it was an empty platitude for the others, then your opinion does matter," Hoch reassured her. "You're smarter than most. You're the only realistic thinker in your group, and Mann was a friend to you as well. I want your opinion."

A little stunned by his reaction, Tatiyana did not reply right away. She inhaled her cigarette as Joachim poured her a third drink. She took the glass and sipped carefully this time.

"I think the boy needs to be punished, Hoch," she admitted, her tone grim. "I think that killing him would be pointless and too much of a mercy. He needs to remember what he did for the rest of his life. It one thing to shoot at soldiers, and it's another thing to feign capture and then kill someone."

Tapping the ashes from his cigarette, the Oberst nodded in apparent agreement. He tapped the ashes out of his cigarette and leaned back into his seat. He was looking at her strangely. It was not how a military man looked at a civilian. It was how a man looked at an equal. It was utterly peculiar.

"Agreed," Hoch concurred with her suggestion. Inhaling the last of his cigarette, he added. "As soon as the fighting ends I'm giving you civilian command of Mann's former company. You will gather the names of the Hitlerjugend we captured and their parents' names. You will then scour the city and bring us as many of their parents as you can find. You will bring them to the city centre for a lesson."

Tatiyana blinked. This had to be a joke. _Her_? In charge of a veteran combat unit? Had he lost his mind?

"You're giving me a company?"

Hoch did not reply to her. He had produced an official order sheet and was writing out directions for her to follow. As soon as he letter was completed, he slid it over to her hands. He stared at her blankly as he waited for her to lift the document up for her to read.

 _Hauptmann Gerhard Feyerabend and 4th Company, of 1st Battalion, 438th Panzergrenadier Regiment 'Hoch'_

 _Attention 4th Company!_

 _I have been made aware of the loss of Hauptmann Helmut Mann at the hands of Hitlerjugend terrorists. While my thoughts and prayers go out to every lost man under my command, Helmut Mann and I were personal friends since boyhood. Although conduct of combat got in the way recently, Mann still remained a friend. There will be a hole in your company that will never be replaced._

 _In an attempt to find a replacement I have nominated Hauptmann Gerhard Feyerabend to assume command over the company. A veteran of the last war, Feyerabend and the men he brought into your company saved hundreds of civilian lives at Weilheim in Oberbeyern against near insurmountable odds. You will not find a better field officer in this regiment then him. In his men you will not find better Kameraden._

 _For the time being, however, the true purpose of this is letter is twofold: a welcome and a transfer of civilian authority of your company. The company will be placed under the civilian authority of Tatiyana Andrusiv for the duration of the assignment I have given her. Her assignment begins the moment this transfer of orders has been handed to Hauptmann Feyerabend._

 _I recognise that this is highly unorthodox, but I have assigned this company with tracking down and securing Hitlerjugend children from surrounding units and then to track down their parents. From there you are to direct parents and Prisoners Of War to the town hall square and await my arrival. In event of an attack, Hauptmann Feyerabend's orders are to reassume command and react until aggressions have ceased._

 _Under no circumstances are the POW's or the parents you find are to be harmed or killed. Under no circumstances can you feign an attack for the purpose of giving you pretext for extrajudicial killings. Andrusiv's assignment is to oversee this operation and then she will present me with an after mission briefing. If she finds that you or any of the men commit to morally reprehensible crimes against the prisoners or civilians, I will see to your court martial along with any man who committed the alleged crime._

 _Signed,_

 _Oberst Joachim Hoch_

 _Commandant,_

 _438th Panzergrenadier Regiment_

As soon as she folded the letter and looked up to him, Hoch was pushing his chair aside and grabbed his coat and leash for Blondi.

"Finding that little shit's parents is top priority, Andrusiv," Hoch ordered as he turned and opened the door of the command Hanomag. "If he doesn't open his mouth have one of them men beat the boy until he tells."

He clapped his hands and caught his dog's attention. As soon as the beast clambered out of the vehicle, Hoch turned back and sighed.

"At least he died in his hometown," he muttered as he closed the door behind him, leaving the suddenly deputized Ukrainian woman behind to finish her drink and cigarette.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Admiral Jarva? Admiral Jarva is ready to take you."

Watching Luna silently out of the viewport of the _Kareon_ , Hanala'Jarva turned back to face her Father's assistant. She nodded and followed the man down the route to her Father's workstation.

She wasn't sure why she had been called to meet with her Father on an official basis. Whatever it had been had better have been on professional business, she was currently not very thrilled with Mother, who thought she was suicidal, Father, who went out and put her in a position where she had to get professional help or else he would take custody of Saleb and suspend her services to the Admiralty Board, and the biggest son of a bitch of them all: Joachim Hoch, who was the one who went behind her back convinced her parents she was a time bomb.

Because of this, she was now seeing a psychologist once a week and being prescribed drugs. As mad as she might have been with him, suddenly she found herself understanding Joachim's position. She had come to understand that being poked and prodded by doctors was not fun or something to be enjoyed. All ready her psychologist was poking into recent affairs, having moved through her youth in four sessions with promises to return to it when they started addressing what happened.

"Hanala, thank you for seeing me on short notice," her Father greeted her kindly.

Hanala nodded and took a seat across from her Father. She did not smile like he was doing. She was still very upset with him. It did not matter if he was being kind to her.

"What's the matter, Father?" Hanala stiffly spoke as she stretched out. "I assume of course this is for professional reasons and not a ruse to see me."

The smile on her Father's expression vanished. He did not return her barb; he instead shook his head as he leaned forward.

"When we decided to expand your role and instated you as a full Admiral, there was one matter that we felt you were not ready to deal with just yet, you made inquiries about the subject but we never permitted it until now," Father informed her, his voice barely above a whisper. "That matter is, of course, Adolf Hitler himself."

Hanala breath got stuck in the back of her throat as her Father was apparently permitting her access to Adolf Hitler after months of denial. She had a million queries to make to her Father for the shift in thinking by the experienced board members. She did not get to ask them as Father raised his hand up in an attempt to keep his daughter from exploding.

"This isn't a matter of conversation duelling to partake with him, Hanala. This is an assignment," Father informed her as he stood from his seat. "About a week ago, Hitler started a one man hunger strike. He says if he is not returned to Earth, he will starve himself to death. While it's early in the hunger strike, Hitler has a track record of doing this."

Hanala snorted derisively.

"Let the bosh'tet starve."

The comment she made was enough to make her Father smile as he sat on the edge of his desk next to his daughter.

"Tempting, but in order to make all of this worth it, we need to trial Hitler in order to discredit any future reincarnation of National Socialism. If we're going to trial him, we need him well fed," he reminded Hanala, quickly ending her desire. "All of our attempts have failed, and while we're not above force feeding him, Admiral Falan suggested having Magda Goebbels make a personal plea to convince him to eat again."

She could not believe what her Father was suggesting. He and the Admirals felt the only way to persuade Hitler off his strike was by handing over a woman who was only now starting to get out of the clutches of National Socialism? From what Hanala could see Magda Goebbels felt no particular love for National Socialism except for personal, almost fanatical, devotion to Hitler. The only reason she married Joseph Goebbels was because Hitler needed to remain single and a bachelor to the women of Germany.

While Hanala had made great strides with her, Magda was still very much devoted to the dictator and occasionally petitioned visitations with the man. The requests slowed down in the past month or two, still Hanala could see a sudden surge of happiness whenever Magda discussed the Führer. If Hanala did not see the extermination policy first hand, she would have thought Hitler was a charming uncle to the children he was in contact with.

Because of this, Hanala could not permit this. Magda was getting better, slowly; surely, this was a total regression of everything they worked hard on getting away from. She could not throw it all away. Let Hitler starve a few more days. He would not allow her friend to be further contaminated.

"You will do no such thing," she finally breathed as she stood up from her seat so her Father and she would be eye to eye. "I have made so _much_ progress with her, and I will not have her fall back into his clutches again! You better get a feeding tube or let him starve because this isn't happening."

As Father dropped his hand onto her shoulder, Hanala batted it off She was not in the mood to be belittled by the senior admiral. As she stepped back, her mouth curled into a disgusted sneer as she watched her Father push himself off the desk.

"I know that you have put a lot of effort into denazification of Magda Goebbels, and I have to commend you. Your mother isn't even aware of the extent to her relationship with National Socialism, so that tells me a lot about how well you've done," Father praised as he moved by her. "This is why I came to you rather then force the intervention. You have a few days to prepare her for the meeting. She needs to understand the importance of not falling back into her old life, but she needs to understand how crucial that tricky bastard is in trialling National Socialism."

He fell silent as he opened a bottle of asari made liquor and poured the two of them a drink. He came back, one glass offered out to his daughter. Hanala stared at it for a moment before taking it from him. They remained silent as they both sipped.

"A lot of good people died and suffered terribly to capture him," Father spoke again, his voice devoid of emotion. "We have to do all that is necessary to keep him under control… for their sake."

Hanala did not reply right away. She still hated the idea, but she knew that he was right; she could not let the many thousands who died in the reprisals for the Hitler abduction die in vain. If it meant that it would potentially derail Magda for a while, then perhaps it was necessary. Hitler had to live, at least until he met his end on the end of the hangman noose, or rotting in Fort Nachzehrer.

A faint happy feeling washed over Hanala as she thought about that. Fort Nachzehrer was a super-maximum penitentiary currently under construction in the Polar Regions of Mars. It would be used to house the convicted war criminals, and if they continued to fight, the Soviet politicians captured as well. There would be no possible escape; they would die millions of kilometres away from their world.

It was the least that they deserved.

"I will tell Magda the situation, and depending on her response I will ask her for help, or you'll get your doctors to keep him under observation," Hanala finally relented. "If she's able to do it, I'm going in there as well. I will not allow it unmonitored. That is non-negotiable."

Her Father looked at her protectively for a moment. He did not want her involved, but he knew better than to fight it. This was as good a deal as he was going to get. If Hanala was permitted to meet Hitler, then Magda would be very likely cleared to intervene.

"Thank you, Hanala."

Hanala nodded and stepped back from her Father. She handed him the glass and was about to leave when Father pressed his hand onto her shoulder. Turning back to face him, she found that the slight concern Father had before was now full blown fear.

"Hanala, Adolf Hitler is not the same man Hoch brought onto the fleet all those months ago. His initial blood work revealed dozens of different narcotics supplements he used thanks to his incompetent personal physician," he revealed to her. "He's gone through withdrawals and he's now clean and sober. He's a lot sharper now then he has been since the beginning of the war."

He paused for a moment before his hand dropped down to grip her bicep.

"Tread carefully, Daughter."

Looking at her Father solemnly, Hanala nodded.

"I will, Father."

With that, Hanala turned to leave. She paused and closed her eyes when she heard Father clear his throat behind her.

"Kiel's been conquered two days ago," he reminded Hanala. "Has there been any word from Joachim?"

Any word from Joachim…

He was busy, and she was busy. They weren't idiots who needed to be attached to the hip at all times in order to prove they were together. They could spend a weeks without writing or contact each other. If he was in Kiel he was probably too busy looking up his old girlfriend and attempting to either let her down or have a whole batch of babies while she was still stuck on the fleet.

Hanala shook her head finally and left her Father's presence. Perhaps it was time to give him a call.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Standing in the centre of the Town Hall Square, Generalmajor Hasso von Manteuffel smoked his cigarette and looked over the many thousands of prisoners his Division had captured in the ruins of the month long Kiel siege. He remembered this city was once a bastion on the Baltic. To see it now, turned into rubble by his command and by Allied bombers… it was a little sad to bear witness to.

The sound of unorganized marching caught his attention. Turning around, Manteuffel found hundreds of soldiers coming in from the far side of the square. Their rifles were drawn as they escorted what appeared to be the reincarnation of the Children's Crusade. Thousands of boys were under armed guard; just about every face was bloodied and battered from conflict. Some of the less wounded boys helped carry their compatriots. Some of them were missing limbs. It was an absolute tragedy to behold. It was the ultimate display of the youth wasted in the conflict.

Behind the boys and the armed guards was a single Opel Blitz truck, behind the truck were nearly as many civilians, most, if not all of them were openly weeping. They were the parents of the Hitlerjugend who made their stand against the superior combat troops that did not show them much in the way of mercy.

A moan came from the sprawled out man next Manteuffel. Furious at his personal prisoner, Manteuffel gave him a hard kick in the ribs.

 _ **"THOSE WHO CAN STAND WILL FALL IN. NOW; BEFORE MY MEN MAKE YOU LITTLE CUNTS FALL IN!"**_

Manteuffel looked in the direction of the shout. Climbing out of the truck passenger seat was none other than Joachim Hoch. He appeared furious as he pushed through the many Hitlerjugend he had captured. As he broke through the crowd he immediately noticed the Generalmajor and moved to join him. As he came closer, it was clear that Hoch was exhausted. Giving the man he captured another kick he went to meet his Oberst half way.

After the two men exchanged salutes, Manteuffel offered his hand out to his new protégé. Hoch looked at it for a moment but he took.

"Oberst Hoch, just the man I'm looking for," he greeted his young friend. "I see you have brought guests."

He gestured back to the boys who were staggering into formation, and the parents huddled together, looking on their children fearfully. Hoch responded by spitting in their direction. He was not impressed with the children he rounded up. Manteuffel could not blame him. He had heard how brutal the children of indoctrination could be.

"The Hitlerjugend and their parents are here to engage in a conversation and a presentation," Hoch growled as he finally turned back to face the Generalmajor. "This is but a fraction of the boys who picked up arms, the rest are dead or hiding… What happened here?"

Hoch gestured to the town hall, to the lampposts, to the trees; on just about every free spot hung corpses of men and women. He looked back to Manteuffel and nearly grinned. Manteuffel had to chuckle and shake his head at the implication Hoch was making.

"When they realized the city was about to be taken and they would not be saved, some of the more ardent National Socialists decided to take their lives," Manteuffel guessed as he turned to look at one of the lightly swinging bodies. "While they saved us a whole bunch of trouble, the least they could do was dig their own graves."

Hoch shrugged at the idle comment.

"You can't expect them to do all the work," Hoch replied without a pause. "Fire will solve that problem quick, Herr Generalmajor."

The two men shared a laugh at the expense of the dead. Still grinning at the young Oberst, the Generalmajor offered the man one of his cigarettes. Joachim took it and allowed the much shorter Generalmajor to light him up. Together the two men: master and apprentice smoked in silence. Watching as the Hitlerjugend finished forming into a battered looking parade.

Exhaling, Manteuffel placed his free hand on Hoch's shoulder and turned the man around. Together they started walking back to his prisoner. It was time to test Joachim. He needed to figure out the sort of man that Hoch was. He watched Hoch's eyes narrow as he quickly realized just what was happening.

"I have the rather dubious honour of presenting Hinrich Lohse to you, Herr Hoch," Manteuffel spoke rather theatrically as they stopped in front of the prisoner. "He is the Gauleiter of Schleswig-Holstein, but in war services to the Reich he is more importantly known as the Reichskommissar of Reichkomisariat Ostland. Ultimately he is responsible for the complete eradication of the Jewish population in Estonia and the Jewish and other undesirables' ghettoization in the other Baltic States."

Hoch remained perfectly silent as he observed the squat, balding middle aged bureaucrat hunched over; his face bleeding from the end of a rifle smacked into his face when his men captured the bastard. He was a pathetic excuse for a human being even before his massive physical trauma.

"Since we started pushing in to Schleswig-Holstein, Himmler ordered him back to his Gau with the intention of heading up the defence. It was him that ordered the total mobilization of the Hitlerjugend to defend Kiel," Manteuffel continued the introduction. "It's because of him that we estimate somewhere in the neighbourhood of fifteen thousand boys were killed in the campaign."

The fat little man pulled himself back up. His eyes were half open as he looked up to Joachim with frightened eyes.

"I-If I knew-"

Lohse did not get to finish his statement of denial. Hoch spat in his eyes and used his boot to kick him back underneath Manteuffel and Hoch's feet. He nearly squealed like a pig.

" _Disgusting_ ," Hoch hissed at the man, he dragged his boot against the front of Lohse's jacket as though he had contaminated his boot. Manteuffel could only smirk as he listened to the former SA man sob.

Joachim Hoch smirked down at the cowering filth.

"Considerably better," Hoch announced approvingly. He turned back to his men. "Peiper, retrieve me a straight razor from Tatiyana!"

Hoch turned back to Lohse, who was sobbing as he realized what was happening. He glanced to Manteuffel, who took at as a dismissal. He stepped back from Hoch and Lohse, giving the young Oberst space to work. Surpassing Hasso, Hoch lifted Lohse off the ground. He brushed his jacket off almost sardonically – like it made much of a difference in his shoddy appearance.

"While we wait, you're going to confess your crimes," Joachim spoke as he let go of the swaying man. "Did you give this order Manteuffel is accusing you of? Did you order these children to battle experienced assault troops? Did you order children to pointless suicidal missions?"

He wasn't just speaking to Lohse, or even to Manteuffel. He was speaking loud enough for the parents of the children he sent on the suicide offensives to understand that the man they put their trust in had killed their children, or worse, turned them into killers at such a young age.

The Gauleiter looked at Hoch warily.

"I did," Lohse admitted.

"Do you admit your guilt for the eradication and Ghettoization of the Jews across the Baltic States?" Hoch asked.

"I do," he got back.

Hoch suddenly laughed out loud. His mouth formed a mocking grin as he leaned in closer to the old man.

"You're brave for an old, fat bastard… I know this game. Admit your crime and expect clemency from me…" Hoch informed Lohse, still grinning. "I've played this game before. The people who admit their crimes ended up handing from nooses just as the fast as the ones who refused to admit their crime… and I've hanged men for lesser crimes then you have committed."

Manteuffel watched as the colour drained from Lohse's face. Lohse looked in the direction of Manteuffel in a desperate bid for help. Hoch reacted by smacking the older man hard in the mouth. His other hand gripped Lohse by the neck, making him gurgle and collapse back to his knees. Sufficiently humiliated, Joachim let go of Lohse's throat.

"Don't look at the Generalmajor," Hoch warned the gasping National Socialist. "He's not going to intervene."

Boots clicking on the stone centre caught Hasso's attention. Approaching them was a Waffen-SS Obersturmbannführer. In his hand was the razor Hoch had order. The SS man nodded to the Generalmajor and offered it to his CO. Hoch took from the man known as Joachim Peiper.

"Thank you… Do you know Joachim Peiper, Herr Lohse?" Hoch addressed his prisoner. He hand gesturing back to his silent Battalion commandant. "He was chummy with Himmler for a while. As his adjutant, he had to report the findings on the Einsatzgruppen killings the unit commanders turned in. When Peiper started to figure out what was going on, he volunteered himself to frontline duty. Two years of risking death is atonement. He has a long way to go, and so do I. But here we are, making the steps."

Manteuffel glanced back to the dead silent Peiper. He had to admit he was slightly impressed that the young man turned away from Himmler and threw himself head first into the war. The amazement was pushed aside as Hoch snapped his razor out and pressed it right against the Gauleiter's jugular. Lohse did not speak, he did not protest. He just looked up at Hoch as though he were his master.

"You, on the other hand have spent decades taking and taking and until this very last hour you have clearly not regretted it until right now," Hoch pressed on. "You are the very worst the regime has to offer. That uniform gave you privileges, it's the only reason you donned it for as long as you did."

Hoch lifted the razor off Lohse's throat. He knelt down in front of the Gauleiter, glaring menacingly at the man.

The relief in Lohse turned into confusion at first. All of sudden he was hit with the full weight of Hoch, who wrestled him into a state of submissiveness. Hoch pulled his head up and violently forced the straight razor into Lohse's right cheek.

Lohse screamed out, making the audience jump, some of the civilians going so far as to scream at the sight of Hoch carving into his face. The Gauleiter tried to move and resist, but fat could not possible resistance against the sheer strength Hoch possessed.

"Look at the boys, the boys you preyed on!" Hoch screamed down to the sobbing and screaming man as he dragged the razor harder through his flesh. "Look at the boys you convinced that they were invulnerable, that they could ever have a chance stopping my men. LOOK AT THE BOYS!"

Peiper stepped forward and gripped the screaming Lohse by what little hair he had left. He wretched the man's head to that the boys could look into the eyes of the man who committed them into the Kiel hell storm. As soon as Hoch made the last cut, Hoch stepped away from his canvas, revealing the almost perfect looking swastika now etched into the Gauleiter's face. Blood was flowing heavily from the new reminder of what the man was.

Kicking the sobbing Gauleiter hard in the back; Hoch directed his rage to the hundreds of boys he had captured.

" _ **Children**_!" he screamed to them next. _ **"Have you learned your lesson?! Hitler has brought you and your parents nothing but death and tears. If I so much as catch wind that you openly covet the Führer I will punish you next with a mark just like your beloved Gauleiter!"**_

The parents sobbed and cried as they listened to the Oberst intently. The little Hitlerjugend was far less convinced. Their sheer lack of response was enough to make the Oberst explode once again.

Hoch turned his direction to the Opel Blitz truck.

"Bohr," Hoch commanded. "I want that little _rat_ out here right now!"

Manteuffel stared in shock as he realized what was happening. That perhaps Hoch wasn't quite as recovered as he appeared. He did not protest as the soldier named Bohr led a boy and his parents through the crowd. The young teenager's face was just as beaten in as Lohse had been. The soldier guiding the prisoner and his parents looked utterly devastated. Whatever the boy did, it was clear that this had been coming to the boy.

The parents pushed by their son and the soldier. The Father remained standing, but the Mother fell to her knees in front of Hoch, her hands reached up to cling onto his trouser.

 _"P-please,"_ the woman begged, sobbing as she looked up to Hoch for a clemency she was likely not to receive. _"He's a good boy, he… he's just been f-foolish enough to believe the lies they fed him. I beg you for this mercy, Herr Oberst, I beg you!"_

Hoch did not reply to the woman. He instead looked up and focused on the skinny, overall clad dock worker. The man reached down and pulled his wife off of Hoch and took her into his arms. Holding her against him, he once again met Hoch's stern expression. He did not acknowledge his son.

 _"I know what he did; Herr Oberst,"_ the Father informed Hoch. _"You have every right to punish him. Do what you feel is necessary. But please, Herr Oberst, spare his life… Take mine if you must."_

In his arms, the Mother of the Hitlerjugend teenager broke down into wild sobbing. Joachim remained still as he waited for the Father to pull the Mother away from her son and the Feldwebel named Bohr. Joachim turned to Bohr, who reached into his belt and retrieved a blood stained Hitlerjugend knife. It was very likely the murder weapon.

Hoch took it from the Feldwebel and looked to the parents again.

He looked at the boy once again.

The knife dropped from Hoch's left hand, as his right raised his P38. He did not blink, he did not hesitate. Without a second's deliberation, Joachim Hoch executed the child in front of all the eyes of Kiel. The round tore into the boy's head, and the child dropped dead.

As the screams of his parents echoed through the plaza and the hearts of every man, woman and child witnessing the display, Hoch stepped back and looked to the stunned woman standing nearby.

"I thought I could do it your way…" he said to the woman, he said as he holstered his pistol. "I was wrong..."

Hoch left in silence, surrounding by his guard detail, leaving his city a shocked silence.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, changed the fate of the boy.**

 **Apparently** **I've been fucking up Kriegsmarine. My bad. Won't happen in future chapters, but it's making me sick thinking about going back. Maybe when I revise Uplifted 1 and 2 like I already think they need. Jesus what a shit show.**


	16. Homecoming

**Chapter Sixteen: Homecoming**

 **…**

Leaned up against the side of one of his SdKfz 232 light reconnaissance armoured vehicle, Joachim Hoch's hand covered his cigarette from raindrops as he smoked. His eyes never left the bomb damaged home on the opposite side of the street.

Hasso von Manteuffel, who was currently in control of what remained of Kiel until proper civilian governance and military police could be brought in decided that he could ill afford losing his Regiment and Battalion commandants, so he assigned protection units to follow their every move. In Joachim's case, given his erratic history of dabbling in summary punishment, he was assigned two platoons as guards as he trekked into the still dangerous and very much still unsecured city of Kiel.

At the moment the majority of the men were going house to house checking on what remained of the block for any potential threats that could be organized against him and his reason for standing in the bombed out neighbourhood. They had been checking for the past forty five minutes and it was starting to erode the Oberst's patience. Well intentioned or not, he had turned a fifteen minute house call into a wasted hour.

Joachim remained silent as he stared at what remained of Katina Kass's family home. It seemed as though the family that dodged losing it all had finally run onto hard times. Not that their wealth was capable of shielding them from bombs from the Allies and the rockets and artillery shells that Joachim and many other field officers launched into the city during the siege.

The same suffering was not exclusive; it went for the Mann's when Hoch delivered Helmut's body to his devastated family. Living just outside the city, their manor home was scorched by bombs; they were living in the guest house on their estate now. Money, it seemed, did not stave off starvation or death in the way Hoch had figured.

Stamping on his cigarette, and tightening his greatcoat around him harder, he turned and found the two platoon Leutnant's approaching him, their men a dozen metres behind them. Still not sure of their names (or even caring enough to learn them) Hoch resorted to referring to them as Stumpy and Bookworm. It appeared that Manteuffel had to scrap the bottom of the barrow with all the spare first line soldiers being assigned to Erich von Manstein and to the Eastern Front.

"All houses cleared but the one you wanted to visit," Stumpy - whose name might have been Meyer - informed Joachim, his hands behind his back. "With your permission we would like you to bring a squad as escort. They will clear the home just in case."

Looking from Stumpy and back to the house, Joachim nodded.

"I will heed your advice, Leutnant. Tell your men to patrol the block," Joachim returned, looking at his watch for a moment before adding, "Meet me back here in twenty minutes for further instruction."

The orders issued, Hoch waited patiently as Stumpy and Bookworm organized their men and the platoons, minus one squad and the armoured vehicles departed Joachim's presence. Remaining in place, he glanced briefly to the Feldwebel and nodded. The Feldwebel turned and issued the order. The men marched their way towards the Kass house, Joachim trailing behind them.

He watched the Feldwebel knock on the door. When no answer came, the door was kicked open rather unceremoniously. The door fell off the hinge as though it was propped up for the illusion that it was still standing in place. In went the troops, screaming their orders at the occupants. Feeling a little guilty about it, Joachim sped up and entered the house.

The home was an absolute disaster. It was musky and stained. Just about every trinket was broken, the roof was caved in and rain water was being collected in pots for drinking. Everything he recalled that had some sort of monetary value was gone. Likely sold or bartered. It was strange to see this happen. He suspected it, it was another thing to find his concerns confirmed.

As he passed by several guards opening cabinets and searching for guns for confiscation, Joachim stepped into the kitchen. Sitting there at the table was a woman with her hands up and a man staring at table. Two of the squad were covering them with MP-40's directed at them only a metre away. Joachim dropped his hand on one of the men's shoulder. The two of them turned back and lowered their weapons; joining the search and leaving Joachim alone with the old people.

The woman lowered her hands as Joachim took of his coat and sat down in front of her.

"M-May I help you, Herr Oberst?" she asked, her voice strained.

Joachim remained silent as he waited for Meike and Johann Kass to recognize their daughter's former suitor. He smiled to himself as he realized it had been quite some time since they last saw each other. Everyone in the room was different. Meike was smaller, like she shrunk, and still Johann did not look at him.

Somewhat confused by the display of most peculiar behaviour on their part, Joachim took off his cap and set it on the table.

"I apologize for my men intruding," he told them. "It's standard procedure as per Administrator Von Manteuffel martial law."

They did not reply as the Feldwebel came back in, his pistol being tucked back into his holster. He looked at the older couple for a moment before turning his attention back to the Oberst.

"We're clear, Herr Oberst."

Hoch nodded.

"You can stand guard outside," he dismissed the Feldwebel and his men with a wave of his hand.

He remained silent as the Feldwebel and his men left, leaving Joachim alone with Meike and Johann. He turned back to the couple and remained silent for another several moments. He wasn't exactly certain where to start. Both of them seemed somewhat… deranged. Like they were mentally addled by the conflict; he doubted Johann had lifted his head up once or even blink, and Meike… she was… off.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" Joachim spoke to them finally, dropping his professional tone to allow a soft note to escape him. "I used to be a rather mean kid who broke your bedroom window to ask if I could court Katarina."

The cogs in the woman's brains seemed to have been turning as she absorbed what Joachim was telling her. It took a while but finally her expression turned into a wide smile. Before he knew it the woman had stepped forward and placed her hand on his cheek. Joachim could not help but smile slightly. He had come to like her when he came back to Kiel shortly after his first year of SS-Junkerschule. She was a good woman and even better National Socialist. It made all of this even harder.

It was these sorts of little connections that built up and made it harder and harder for him to shift from the path he was guided onto. Every time he thought he had nothing left something like this came back up and reminded that he was by no means free from his old path.

"You're… You're Marta's son…. Joachim," she exclaimed as she pulled back from him. "You're Joachim... Joachim Hoch… You look so different. How is your Mother?"

Joachim blinked as the woman dropped a mug down in front of him. Surely she knew that Marta had died. Although they were distant, the Kass and Hoch family weren't complete strangers. They knew each other's business, and were often still in the same circles. Not sure how to reply to the odd question, Joachim did not speak as he watched the woman fill her kettle with one of the rain water buckets.

"She's dead, Frau Kass," Joachim reminded her as she placed the kettle over the fire burning in the oven. "She died over a year ago. Didn't you know?"

Brushing the soot off her hands, Meike turned back to face what was to be her son-in-law. She could only smile like Joachim was playing a prank on her.

"Oh that's nonsense. I spoke her during the battle on a ration line!" Meike returned once again to his side, her tone clearly wild and delusional. "You know, she always told me that you were a big liar! It's nice to see you haven't completely changed!"

Narrowing his eyes once again at her, Joachim decided against pursuing this any further. His Mother was dead, and this woman was absolutely out of her mind. There was something extraordinary wrong going on in the Kass home. Perhaps the war finally broke them. Judging from the state of everything, it made sense. They likely had to eat a lot of thing people untouched by war did not have to eat, perhaps that made them sick and the delusions of Meike and the catatonic state Johann was in was the cause of it…

Meike turned back to Joachim, holding the handle of the kettle as she approached him once more. A sudden nauseating breeze came wafting from the kettle as she poured a disgusting looking black sludge out into his mug. She smiled sympathetically for the younger man.

"It's an old Great War recipe dear," Meike explained to him. "Johann used to drink this while he was in the trenches. It's not pleasant, but you get used to it."

He did not need an excuse. Joachim looked at disgusting brew, his brow arched as he sneered at the slop. He had heard of Ersatz Coffee. Coal tar and turnips was used as substitute to coffee beans and sugar. He supposed he understood that it was a… _adequate_ replacement to the coffee bean he supposed, but that was when there was no alternative. Surely the Kass's could go out and scrounge something better than this.

Knowing that he would not be able to handle this right now, Joachim held up his hand and pulled his flask of rye out and offered it to Meike.

Meike froze in place as she turned back and found the flask being offered to her. Like all good German mothers, she loved to drink. Joachim reckoned it was quite some time since liquor touched her tongue. It was confirmed as her hands shook as she took the flask from him and liberally poured a cup full into her still empty mug.

Just as she was about to take her drink, she looked up to Joachim, her eyes almost glazed over.

"I must look like quite the fool," she admitted to him self-chidingly. "Here I am trying to poison you with my hospitality."

Joachim did not reply with anything other than a slight smile as he took the flask back from her and took a drink as well. The two of them remained silent as they drank. The only sound that echoed in the room was coming from Johann Kass scraping his chair backwards. His body was rocking back and forth. He looked like someone went out of their way to break him into pieces that would never quite fit together ever again.

Meike looked up as she noticed Joachim's attention at turned to her unresponsive husband.

"He's not usually this bad. He's just being shy," Meike informed her guest softly. "He lost his leg building ships for the beloved Führer. Those dastardly English; the Führer shall make them pay with fire and death soon. Himmler and Heydrich have promised this on the radio…."

Not feeling particularly tactful at the moment, or willing to address the matter of the bastards who he would personally bury one day; Joachim looked underneath the table. Sure enough the woman was right. His left leg was gone, amputated just above the knee. Seeing no crutches around, he looked at Meike for a moment. She must have been personally moving her husband around. It was certainly dedication on her part.

It would not be long before that changed. He would look into finding the man a replacement limb to use. Perhaps ending his dismemberment such as this would help him pull out of this pit he was in.

"The last time I saw you, you were bringing home Katarina and you were being sent to the frontier," Meike spoke up finally, her words dulled. "You were a part of the SS back then… why are you wearing that uniform?"

Joachim looked at the woman for a moment and then focused his attention to swirling the contents in his flask. He knew how badly this would end if he did not approach this with some care. He did not want to isolate Katarina by breaking what was left of her parents.

"Recent events have changed my opinion," Hoch stated stiffly as he drank.

Meike's hand reached across the table. It was dirty and tightened like a bird's talon. She gripped tightly onto his machine hand. She apparently did not notice the difference.

"Well you must change them back before anyone knows it. The Führer will return and he will punish every usurper in this silly little battle!" Meike returned, her voice growing louder and more urgent, like she was speaking to her child. "You love my daughter and the last time I heard you were on the rise in the SS. So I won't tell anyone about this temporary change of heart... I swear it."

Although she was clearly delusional, Joachim could not help but be touched by her patience with him. She was in the wrong, but he had to admit it had been quite some time since he had a woman looking out for him; the last one being Lene. Instead of hitting his head hard to take his mind off Lene, Joachim took a drink and screwed the lid of the flask back up.

"Frau Kass… the Führer is no longer a factor in anything. He will not return to power," Hoch told the woman watching him in disbelief. "I know that is difficult to accept. It even bothered me at first. I'm a National Socialist... I don't want to be one anymore, but getting out of that is going to be difficul-"

"Hush now Joachim Hoch. Oh yes he will return and you know it," Meike cut him off sharply. "The Führer has never and will never fail the people so long as we serve in his name. Just you see Joachim Hoch, he will be back, and you will serve him…"

Boot steps came up from behind him before Joachim could blurt out the truth. Breaking their conversation, Meike and Joachim looked to the source. In came the Feldwebel he had been assigned. He came to a state of attention in front of the Oberst.

"Herr Oberst, this woman claims she lives here," the Feldwebel addressed the Oberst. "Can you vouch for her?"

As he spoke, two more sets of boots entered the broken kitchen. True to the Feldwebel's words, two more soldiers were escorting a woman into the living room. The woman, looking at the soldier manhandling her turned back and looked into the suddenly nervous looking Joachim.

Respectfully, he stood up from his seat as her eyes, dead exhausted looked at him with genuine shock. He was likely the last person she had ever expected to run into. She was vastly different then the voracious young national socialist beauty who taught his eye all those years again. She was cut up and bruised; very likely she was caught in an artillery barrage. She was thin, like she had been sacrificing her food to her family whenever she could. Her hair was patchy and limp.

Looking at the soldiers holding the woman in place, they quickly understood that Hoch was giving her permission to be here. They released her and returned back out into the summer rain. Their absence left Joachim standing there looking into the dead eyes of Katarina Kass.

There was a moment of silence, before the woman shuffled forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Joachim froze up as he tried to ignore the stench on her. She likely hadn't bathed since the siege begun. After a moment, Joachim reached out and returned the affection.

"Joachim… Oh thank God, you're alright," she murmured into his neck.

Joachim did not reply. Not that he had a chance to speak, really. Before he knew it her lips were touching his. He did not return it, and instead broke it off as soon as he could. A quarian could be watching him or listening in via the tracking devices in his omni-tool. The last thing he needed right now was Hanala kicking in the door and beating the poor roughed up Katarina senseless.

As they broke the kiss off, Meike stepped forward. She utterly happy at the sight of her child back in the arms of the man she presumed was still single and likely to marry her. Katarina stepped back as well. There was colour against her deathly pale face. She kissed her mother's cheek and dug her hands into the pockets of her frayed jacket.

"I'm so glad you that you are home," Meike addressed her as Katarina took out several mouldy looking potatoes and Turnips. "Perhaps you could convince him to turn away from this silly rebel business he's involved with."

Katarina's eyes grew wide as she directed her gaze back to Joachim. Tilting his head slightly he tapped the bars on his uniform collar.

"I changed services," he finally spoke to her. "I have to report in to my men. Come with me back to my command centre. I can get you and your family some provisions…"

Looking from her Mother, who was back to fussing her husband. Katarina could not have possibly nodded hard enough. She likely tried to stay away from this family tragedy as much as she could. Gathering his cap and coat, Joachim and Katarina left the home, leaving the place alone to the two shattered parents.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Katarina had to admit that she was frightfully nervous as soon as she crossed over the city limits and into the staging grounds of the rebel Wehrmacht.

Thousands and thousands of soldiers who stood against the Reich were relaxing and likely preparing for the long march east to Berlin. Panzers were building rearmed and repaired, some bigger than anything she ever saw during the early war parades. It was an impressive, terrifying and eye opening sight to behold. For the longest time she refused to believe that there had been a rebellion brewing. That Hitler was alive and it was only a small cadre of men who stirred this up.

Now she knew better.

What was even more impressive was watching as hundreds of men came to various states of attention as the Joachim passed them by. It was still hard to believe that Joachim was now only one step below a General commission. He was only 25; it just seemed a little young for him to be placed in that sort of position. Still, he seemed to have been managing it quite fine.

Joachim suddenly came to a stop, his eyes directed to a group of soldiers playing cards and smoking underneath a tarp. Amongst them was a peculiar sight. It was a woman, unnaturally thin; her nose was deep in a book of old German literature. Joachim stepped towards the group. The biggest soldier was the first one to notice his approach. He dropped his cards and shot to a state of attention. He was followed by the four others in the card game, only the woman remained sitting, her eyes were looking up at him curiously.

"At ease," he told the men, he turned to the woman, adding, "Tatiyana, I could use your help, go to our food stores and see what we might have to spare. I'll be with you in a bit."

Katarina suppressed her sudden surge of jealousy as she watched the odd looking woman set the novel down, nod and offer a half smile to Joachim. As she left Joachim gestured to Katarina to continue following him. Suppressing the urge to say something foolish, she followed the man up the side of the hill to where a large truck was waiting for them. Stationed next to the truck was hugest panzer she had ever seen; it was a turetless behemoth.

As they moved to the back, Joachim opened the back of the truck door for her.

"Wait inside, don't mind my dog," Joachim told her. "I'll bring you what you need."

Before she could ask, she found herself inside of the vehicle, and looking into the eyes of a German shepherd growling at her.

She made one step forward into Joachim's work and, judging from the bed, living arrangements. Katarina offered her hand out to the creature and allowed the Shepherd to sniff her. It took exactly five seconds for the animal to change its disposition and soon she found herself with a new friend. It seemed that the animal as a lot like Joachim in a way –aggressive, but a huge sap if you knew just where to scratch.

Looking around at the setup Joachim had, she silently sat down on one the chairs in the centre of the room. It certainly seemed cosy, if somewhat lonely. That was the sort of vibe she was getting off of Joachim. It was a sense of isolation. He might have commanded many men, but certainly it must have been a heart wrenchingly difficult decisions he had to make. Very few people could do what Joachim was doing.

Perhaps it was time to get reacquainted with him…

As she debated taking Joachim Hoch right then and there, the door opened up and in climbed Joachim, carrying a small crate. Behind him was that same strange woman. She too was carrying a bag. As Joachim set it on the table and the woman placed the bag into the crate, Joachim stepped back from her. He appeared almost at a loss of words.

"It should be enough for a week if you ration it properly," Joachim spoke up finally, his voice odd as he gestured to the food stuffs he had delivered to her. "I cannot do this again for obvious reasons. There can be no further special considerations simply because we have… history. The food situation should be somewhat alleviated in a weeks' time."

Somewhat shocked, and certainly disheartened by his brush off. Katarina stood up and nodded.

"I understand…" she acknowledged, her hands gripping the sides of the crates. "Well… It was good seeing you again… thank you."

From behind Joachim, she heard the woman speak in some sort of disgusting sounding Slavic language. Joachim looked back at the woman over his shoulder and nodded. He once again turned to Katarina once again and stepped forward. He looked somewhat apologetic for what he had said to her.

"My apologies if that came off as rude," he spoke to Katarina with an exacerbated tone. "My boss has me and his other subordinates preparing for the push east. You'll have to forgive me if I'm short with you. Please… will you take a seat?"

Looking at the chair Katarina was just sitting in and to Joachim gesturing to it; Katarina set the crate down and took a seat. Joachim stepped forward, his hand digging into his pocket to retrieve his cigarette case and lighter. He set them down on the table next to her and pushed by her. Deciding not to pay attention to the Slav woman looking down on her, Katarina twisted herself to watch Joachim retrieve a glass and a bottle of liquor.

"You look… handsome in that uniform. Much more professional I suppose," she admitted to him with a slight smile. "I'm not supposed to say it, being a BDM girl and all, but I always found SS uniforms a little too flamboyant."

A drink in hand, Joachim set it down next to the cigarettes. Katarina wasn't sure if her stomach could handle a drink or cigarettes at the moment, but she took the glass regardless and watched as Joachim sat down in the second chair opposite of her. One leg crossed over the other as he watched the glass touch against her chapped lips.

"Yes, they're quite uncomfortable in the heat of the summer," Joachim admitted to, slightly amused. He glanced back to the Slav and added. "Tatiyana, could you check her wounds? They don't seem too bad, but infection is dangerous."

Looking distastefully at Katarina, like she was some sort of inconvenience; the Slav named Tatiyana nodded. Her hand reaching into her should slung pouch and retrieved a white cloth and antiseptic. Katarina wanted to protest. She could very well treat her own wounds if she had the supplies to do so. She did not need his pet dousing the cloth as she stepped forward.

Wincing as the Slav's bony fingers touched against her skin, Katarina would not display an ounce of pain as the antiseptic bubbled away on her rough facial injuries. She met Joachim's staring eyes. She could see now just how different he was from the Joachim who left for the front in 1939. She had to admit she missed the old Joachim. Old Joachim knew what he wanted and went out of his way to get it. This one seemed significantly… distant; distant and very uncertain…

"Tatiyana Andrusiv, this is Katarina Kass by the way; an old friend," Joachim finally introduced Katarina to the Slav. "Katrina, this is Tatiyana. She thinks herself now as my adviser."

The words Joachim spoke shone with humour and a strange affection for the woman. There was a sudden, small smile that crossed onto Tatiyana's face at the acknowledgement.

"Someone has to tell you how your common troops feel," Tatiyana softly returned as she went to work unceremoniously dabbing Katarina's face with the wet, stinging cloth.

There were several minutes of silence which fell in the vehicle as the woman finished cleaning and dressing the sores and cuts. As soon as she felt satisfied she was done, Tatiyana stepped back and reached back into her bag. She took another clean sheet out and placed both the bottle of antiseptic and the cloth into the crate. Nodding to Joachim wordlessly, Tatiyana stepped out of the vehicle, closing the door behind her; at long last leaving Katarina along with Joachim.

Taking notice of a mirror, Katarina pulled herself back up and inspected the work the Slavic did on her behalf. It was not half bad she had to admit. She felt… cleaner then she had in quite some time. From behind her, Joachim cleared his throat.

"What in the hell _happened_ to your parents?" he rumbled bluntly behind her as he leaned backwards into his seat. "Johann… he's just broken… and Meike… and didn't you have a brother too?"

Fidgeting in place, Katarina shifted her body around to look on Joachim once again. Brushing her hair to one side, she sat back down.

"My Mother has gone mad, delusional; my Father is nearly catatonic as you saw. You know as much as I do," she informed him softly. "I don't know what did it to them. Perhaps it was all the bombings that they have had to live through just about every day. I was in the Rhineland for most of the war working the on a farm for the war effort. When I came back… everything had changed…"

She trailed off as her thoughts drifted back to her 12 year old brother, Gunther. Knowing full well how Joachim would react she told him, she decided to do it anyway.

"My brother is Hitlerjugend, of course. Just as all boys his age are," Katarina pressed on, watching as Joachim's demeanour shift subtly. "He was arrested by the Kriegsmarine for attempting to bomb a bar sailors frequented. I don't expect you to free him or anything. He deserves to be sitting in a holding pen. He put a blade through one of the sailors restraining him. Nearly killed the man…"

Joachim remained silent as she finished explaining the situation to him. She focused on her glass of alcohol. She took it in hand and drank as Joachim sat there silently debating something to him. After several long moments, he reached over and unexpectedly took Katarina by the hand. It took all her effort not to allow the heat to flush her face.

"I might be able to release him from custody," he spoke, his tone somewhat uncertain. "The boy will have to face his crimes if he's charged, but for the time being he could be placed under house arrest, once I can determine his level of fanaticism."

Katarina's eyes widened at the potential chance at her little brother's release. Setting her glass back down, she launched herself at him, kissing him for the second time. Like the last time, Joachim broke it off and kept it from going any further.

The first time she was fine with that refusal from happening. She was more than a little excited to see him and he clearly wasn't expecting it, not to mention it was right in front of her parents. This time was different. This time he looked almost afraid by it. He pushed her out of his seat, slid his chair back and stood up. Wiping his mouth he exhaled slowly.

"Look I have to be honest with you," he spoke the dreaded words she did not want to hear. "I'm seeing someone. I don't want to give a false belief that what we have still exists."

An awkward silence fell between Joachim and Katarina. Willing herself not to break down into tears, or react with physical anger at this revelation, Katarina swallowed all of her disappointment into the pit of her stomach. She suddenly felt sick. Forcing herself to breath steadily, she looked up and met his gaze. She racked her brain for possible women to hunt and kill for taking him from her.

"Let me take a guess, is it the Langer girl?"

Joachim did not react at first. Katarina just had to smile mischievously. He likely wasn't expecting that she already knew that he was likely doing all that he could do to get into that family that all but adopted him when he left home at 16-

"She's dead… they're all dead," he informed her blankly. "I've been seeing someone for quite some time before that. It's… serious."

Hearing about the demise of the Langer family made Katarina flinch. Not sure how best to apologize, she decided it was better to simply move on before the topic at hand was bogged down by death.

"Well… is it that Slav girl? She looks like death incarnate. Might be more of your thing now, I suppose," Katarina once again stabbed in the dark. Smiling grimly, she added, "I never expected you to lie down to a human farm animal."

She scrapped out a chuckle, but it was not reciprocated as she expected from Joachim. He did not take the humorous remark well. He stared at her with hard, cold eyes. Katarina shrunk back into her seat as she realized that Joachim wasn't exactly adhering to the policies he once did.

"Tatiyana is a friend, and I would prefer you _not_ insulting her, especially when she suggested you receive more provisions then I intended to provide," Joachim warned her softly.

As his words sunk in and made Katarina somewhat taken aback with guilt for insulting the Slav girl, Joachim's crossed one leg over the other. Slowly his extremely defensive expression relaxed once again as he silent watched Katarina for a physical display of an apology.

"No, I'm seeing another foreigner," he finally admitted. He paused, and then added. "She's… Finnish…"

Although she was a now in the position to be called a jilted lover to him, Katarina had to sigh in relief. The woman he chose was a clean blooded was Nordic, likely had good, hardier genes. It was a far significantly better choice than most women outside of the Fatherland. She could live with that choice.

"It's more than just blood, I guess," Joachim spoke again, his voice strained as he grabbed his cigarette case. "Anyways, I intend on marrying her when I can… I mean if she still wants to, of course. I'm sorry if this is awkward, or you weren't expecting it… It's just… better out in the open."

Apparently giving her a moment to debate her response, Joachim stood up and pushed his chair in. He wandered back towards his cabinets. Katarina looked at him for a moment before turning her eyes away from him.

"No… no you're right to do this. I would rather know then just throw myself at you, like I have already done," Katarina reluctantly agreed with Joachim. "It's probably for the best... she keeps telling me not to marry you anyway."

"Meike?" he inquired incredulously as he dug through his cabinets. "I was under the impression she wanted the union... I hope your mother isn't too upset. I liked her a lot once."

Despite her hopes collapsing before her eyes, Katarina could not help but laugh at his remark. It hurt, but she laughed regardless.

"Yes, my mother does want our marriage to happen…" she immediately confirmed. "Your mother, on the other hand, thinks I could do a lot better then you. Holy Christ does she hate you. You know that she burned all of your possessions in this winter? I don't know what you did…"

She watched as the giant man freeze dead in place. Her hand hit against her mouth. She should not have admitted that. She knew that Joachim and Marta Hoch both despised each other. She had sworn to Joachim that she would not approach him, and she swore to Marta that she would not speak about her if she ever saw him. It seemed strange, but that was just how the Hoch family had always been. They hated each other, so they pretended they were dead to each other…

"Okay, a confession… I've been friends with your Mother since '38," she finally admitted Joachim, whose body hadn't moved as much as a millimetre since she admitted to talking to Marta. "I know you told me not to do, but she's really nice when you get to know her… Joachim? Joachim, are you okay?"

But it was clear as day that Joachim was not okay. In a state of stupefied disbelief, Joachim had turned around and slowly slid down against the cabinets. His eyes were wide, and his face dead pale as he looked off, far past her. Stunned, he was shaking his head back and forth.

"Well… well that… that can't be… I spread her ashes more than a year ago," He mumbled to himself. Blinking, he looked up to Katarina and said. "Are you telling… Are you telling me she's alive?"

Katarina looked on Joachim strangely; it was almost like he had caught the same delusions that her Mother had. She nodded her head in confirmation.

Of course Marta Hoch was alive. Why _wouldn't_ she be?

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Joachim and Katarina did not utter a single word to one another as Katrina led him and his security detail back into the city in order to track down the still apparently alive Marta Hoch.

Joachim was too furious at the moment to form anything coherent. He could not believe that this was happening. He could not believe that he allowed himself enough sympathy for her that he would shed tears… in front of Hanala of all people. Now he found out she was alive… that she didn't bother correct the body counters who identified the corpse as her. It seemed like a fundamental betrayal. They might have been not talking, but they were family. Christ, even he had Gerald check in with her when news came in at the near destruction of his company outside of Moscow.

Perhaps there was more to this then he was willing to admit. He knew of one family of Jews she helped evade the deportations. He knew that for some reason the Rauch's looked on her like she was some sort of saint, or whatever a Jew equivalent that existed. Perhaps she used her death as a means to shake off potential suspicion and be a silent hand in guiding the Jews away from their oppressors. If that was the case, then it sounded like she actually wanted to be one of them. It would certainly explain why she was willing to put up with an abusive husband for as long as she did.

Whatever the case, he did not intend to build this relationship back up. Not yet at least. There was only one reason he was doing this, and that reason was Hanala. He knew Hanala had an interest in his past. She more than once snooped around the house they were living in back in 1942. He imagined she was looking for whatever trace of Joachim's past she could find and piece together. If things didn't descend into a fight that made reconciliation impossible, then perhaps she would get to meet her. Saleb as well if it was permissible. Of course this all would assume she would be fine with him seeing an alien, and wasn't frightened by Hanala and Saleb.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if things would be bad as they were eight years ago. They were older now and likely different people today… at least he was. If Mother was able to get out of her drunken apathy and social circles to help others, then perhaps she was different as well.

"Joachim… Joachim, we're here."

Katarina's voice called him back to reality. The Hanomag they were in has pulled over on the side of the ridge overlooking the Baltic. Joachim's mouth broke into a crooked expression. It was Strand Falckenstein. Strand Falckenstein was a beach on the fjord that he used to go to when he was a teenager to drink and watch the girls with his friends. Gone were those bright days. There was a fog on the water and stuck in the beach was a crashed Bomber, RAF markings could be seen from where Joachim stood. It was in the process of being cut down and recycled back into the war machine by a dozen miserable looking civilians.

Climbing out of the back with Katarina at his side, Joachim paused for a moment to allow her a wide berth. Part of him feared what was about to happen. It would have been so much easier if his curiosity did not get the better of him. It would be so much easier if he obliged her and let her pretend that she was long dead. As he easy as it was, he wasn't about to give that bitch the satisfaction of thinking she could pull the wool over his eyes.

As it became clear that Katarina was leading him to the only structure left standing just off the beach – a beach cabin used by tourists when National Socialist Germany was opening herself up to tourism just before the war. Now it was desolate and abandoned. Disgusted by the hovel, Joachim turned back to the platoons following him.

"I want this house surrounded," he directed them plainly. "No one leaves the premises without my permission, and right now I'm not granting it. If anyone runs, you arrest them."

As the platoons broke up and placed themselves around the home, Joachim sped his pace and was soon only several feet behind Katarina. She glanced back and smiled reassuringly to him. He did not return the gesture. He was not in the mood to smile for her. Understanding that, Katarina continued on and guided Joachim up the path until they were both standing at the door.

Katarina turned back to Joachim. She was fidgeting in place, a display of just how uncomfortable she had become. She knew that this wasn't going to be pleasant reunion. Joachim was not going to make it comfortable for her either. He was there to see the sort of woman his Mother had become. She stepped forward, producing a key from her pocket.

"Marta?" she called out as she entered the home. "It's Katarina."

There was a small silence, and then the clicking shoes approaching the two of them standing in the doorway.

"It's good to see you again, dear…"

Her words died, the kind happy smile vanished off his Mother's face as soon as she stepped out into the line of sight and registered just who it was who was standing there in the doorway with Katarina. Joachim remained dead silent as he continued to stare into the dulled blue eyes he had inherited from her. She looked at him like he was the last person she ever wanted to see for as long as she continued to live.

For a moment – just the briefest of moments - he wanted nothing better than to step forward and hug her. He wasn't sure why he felt like that. This horrid bitch had fated her own demise. Whether it was intentional or not, it was clear she wanted nothing to do any more with her old life… him included.

Slowly the anger, the hurt and the betrayal he felt came seeping back into him. He would permit that once he was through with a few unfinished matters. Joachim had to push Katarina to the side as she attempted to get in between him and Marta. He didn't care about blood, age or gender at this point. She deserved a good smack to the mouth for what she had done…. for putting him in a position where he actually cried in front of Hanala of all people; especially when she did not deserve his tears, even if she was indeed killed in that raid.

"I'm sorry, Marta!" Katarina called out behind Joachim. "He insisted on joining me."

Joachim stopped in front of his shorter mother. His eyes scanning every new line and age mark her face had developed in the eight years of no contact between the two of them. She was not in the slightest intimidated by the expression he would use on men shortly before he had them executed. Marta stood there defiantly as though she had done no harm.

"It's not her fault, Mother," Joachim spoke lowly to Marta in the English she had taught him so that Katarina could not eavesdrop. "I was under the impression that you were gone. I received a phone call while stationed in Vienna. I was told you were dead. I came home; I was given your ashes. So… for nearly 17 months you have pretended to have died? You'll forgive me if I needed to see this for myself…"

Marta Hoch glared right back at him. Her brow arched as she held her ground. Gone apparently was her ability to be submissive in the face of danger. She was not quite the same woman that Joachim had remembered over nine years ago.

"Well here I am," she uttered at him, her voice crackly and aged. "Is there anything you need to ask before I tell you before you leave?"

Offering his Mother the most menacing smirk he could produce at that moment, pushed by her and went deeper into the shithole she now called home. He allowed his cigarette case to be seen by his mother in order to remind her of her long deceased husband. He slumped down onto the couch as he lit up his cigarette.

"Whose ashes did I scatter?" Joachim started as he exhaled his mouthful of smoke. "Another _Jew_ you just needed to help?"

Marta remained silent as she continued to look at him from the entrance into the lounge. For a moment she appeared stunned that he was fully aware of her dealings with the Jews. Joachim extended his cigarette and purposefully tapped ashes on the floor. She stepped forward, her eyes hard as she looked down at the child she likely never wanted.

"Jews have names as well; her name was Helen Rothman, from Potsdam. Her family was grabbed and so she ran as fast as she could," she informed him as she crossed her arms. "She was living with me for three weeks while I was arranging her escape out of the country to Denmark. I was out getting provisions when the air raid came i-"

 _"And so you decided not to come forward?"_ Joachim cut her off sardonically. _"You decided to turn tall and run?"_

"And how do I explain a dead Jew in my house, boy? For a _Nazi_ like you I thought you would realize the delicate nature of harbouring the ones you consider undesirables," She hissed at her son with great contempt in her voice for him.

A heavy silence between mother and son.; Joachim remained locked in place as he looked down on Marta wearily.

"When I went home, the house was partially demolished and she had died. I decided I could help more people…" Marta pressed on, refusing to look at her son. "I could be more involved the Catholics efforts in smuggling out Jews from this godforsaken place if they thought I was gone. I dropped my identification on her body and left."

As she fell silent again, Joachim felt an inkling of respect for that. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. She had uprooted herself to help. It was impressive, especially when the bitch standing there was an absolute self-absorbed waste of flesh the last time he was in her company. It appeared that she had sobered up and decided to help others.

Blowing smoke up at her direction, Joachim crossed one leg of the other.

"The Rauch family is dead," he spoke out of pure angry spite. They're gone now. So tell me, mother, how is that fresh start of yours is working out for them?"

Joachim watched delectably as the colour vanished from her face. She stood there opened mouth as Joachim told her what had happened to a family she was apparently very close to at one point. He watched as she stepped gingerly over. Her mask of strength cracked as she scanned him for any lie he might be telling. She shrunk as she realized her son wasn't deceiving her about the fate of the Rauch family.

"They're… they're gone?" she whispered breathlessly as she continued to look at him like he was lying to her. "I was done paying the Trier's…. I put three thousand Reichsmarks into their pockets… I sold my jewellery… I was only helping them pay living expenses at that point… and the Trier's assured me it was unnecessary… I let them know that I had to cut ties…"

Joachim emitted a laugh as he watched his Mother squirmed uncomfortably as she slowly came to understand what her son was telling her. Unable to believe how foolish this woman was, Joachim stood up, dropping his cigarette and stamping it into the carpet on the floor. He approached Marta, mockingly smiling at her.

"Typical socialist mentality: believing in others to be fundamentally good and honest," he replied, twisting the knife into her wound. "Believe me when I say that a month or two after you stopped showing up, the Trier's kicked their asses to the curve. They're all dead now… because of you."

It was a lie obviously. She did not deserve the truth.

As much as she deserved it, watching Marta cry only left Joachim feeling eerily empty. He knew she would never respond to him if he told him exactly what losing her had felt like for him all those months ago. He knew that they weren't family. They were just related-

A sudden sharp pain caught him in the face. Marta had smacked her son. She reared her hand back and attempted to smack him again. Joachim was quicker this time. He caught the hand and wrenched it hard behind her back, making the woman collapse onto the ground in tears of anguish and physical pain.

"I… _hate_ you so much…" she spoke to him, reverting back to German. " And I want you out of my home! I want you gone… Why couldn't you have died outside of Moscow?! You could have done me a huge service for once in your miserable life!"

Fuelled with great hatred for her child Marta struggled underneath of her significantly stronger son. Although physical resistance was fruitless, her words pierced Joachim more then she seemed to witness. Breathing shallowly as he fought not to cry as well, Joachim pressed his knee into her back, his eyes looking up to find Katarina utterly shocked at the collapse of the meeting.

"I'm not going _anywhere_ ," he growled into her ear. "You faked your own death, and you have the _**GALL**_ to be angry at me for taking your blinders off? No, you're not wiggling out of this little reunion that easily…. **LEUTANT MEYERS! GET IN HERE!** "

Joachim's scream to his security detail outside was nearly instantaneous in its response. In a matter of seconds, the front door flew open and in stormed Leutnant Meyers and two of his men. It wasn't long after that they were standing over the Oberst and his struggling, enraged mother. Joachim looked away from Marta and turned to the Leutnant who was surprised by the sight of the Oberst pinning down a 63 year old woman. He stood back up and brushed his hands off.

"I want this woman placed under arrest," he ordered plainly. There was no protest, Meyer and the men swarmed over the woman, lifting her off the ground and holding her arms tight against her back.

"Under what charge?" she demanded, her voice shrill as she glared violently at her deceptively impassive son.

"Any charge I feel like," was Joachim immediate response. "Let's start with assaulting a Heer occupation officer."

Reaching for his cigarettes once again, Joachim could not help but look as Meyer and his men dragged the woman away. Marta wrenched her head back and looked squarely into Joachim's eyes. There was nothing but hatred in her expression for her own creation.

"You can put on that uniform, but you're still a Nazi to everyone!" she screamed at him as she was dragged out of the house, leaving Katarina and Joachim alone in the beach house.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, he turned to Katarina. She turned back to her former boyfriend like she seemed to finally understand just how volatile the Hoch family was. Exhaling idly, he pulled his cigarette from his mouth and followed the path Meyer had taken Marta.

"I'll have you know that this was one of our better encounters…all things considered," he informed her, passing the woman by as he left the premises.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Storming towards the front gates to his staging grounds, Otto Skorzeny clutched tightly to his quarian built , German designated QMR(g)-43 Assault Rifle. His eyes watching as a cargo truck pulled into the grounds his staging area.

He had gotten word of it as it moved through each checkpoint. All that the driver said was it had special clearance from the Reichsführer and produced all the proper documents to give proof. This was an outrage to be sure. Skorzeny received personal assurances from the Reichsführer that he would not get involved in any way, other than moral support. Why now was he sending out trucks on routes that could be easily spotted if the Wehrmacht was looking properly and not devoted on crushing National Socialism? It seemed so unnecessarily risky.

SS-Sonderkommando Paladin Group was self-sufficient and prided itself with that distinction. In its five months of existence, Paladin Group had invited only one new face in their organization, and that was only a few days ago: That new face was Heinrich Müller – Head of the Gestapo - and the decided upon lure meant to convince the aliens to send a transport.

In order to do that, Flight Lieutenant Dalad'Voar and Müller spent several days filming a convincing automated transmission to send to the fleet. Pretending his communications was damaged, Dalad recorded a message to send once he got a communication device working. The quarians would know it was a recording, but quarians were notably arrogant, and Skorzeny was ready to play on their assumption of human ignorance. They would send a ship and he would be set to spring the trap.

Of course, now the cover could be broken. The quarians watched just about everything. This truck could have been tracked, and within hours, days, the quarians could relay the find to local Wehrmacht units, or to their assassins they once deployed to abduct his friend Kaltenbrunner.

He slung his rifle back over his shoulder as the truck passenger door opened. Out climbed an immaculate Waffen-SS uniformed Oberführer. Skorzeny remained silent as the grave as he glared at the man shuffling lazily towards him. He did not bother to offer him the respect of a salute in front of his men.

"Skorzeny, Oberführer Hermann Fegelein at your service," the Oberführer introduced himself to Otto. "It's a pleasure to meet you at long last. It's not often that Heydrich, Himmler, Müller and Kaltenbrunner agree on something; it's a real honour to have that distinction."

Boots caught both men's attention. Skorzeny glanced back at Paladin Group standing behind him. Like Skorzeny, none of the commandos were thrilled to see this Fegelein character. They spent months being drilled about the value of secrecy. To have it broken now with three days to go until the attack was utterly unacceptable in their eyes. If his team was mad, then Otto would speak on their behalf. He might have been flashy, and loved the praise. He just would not admit it.

"Save your empty praises, Oberführer," Skorzeny ordered the superior officer. "I cannot permit you any further on the grounds, as per Himmler's original directive. You both have very likely compromised our mission!"

Unfazed by the display, Fegelein stepped forward and inspected the commandos staring right back at him. As soon as his inspection ceased, he turned back to look at Otto again, his mouth forming a mild grin.

"We serve the same man and operate on the same secret mission. It was decided by the Reichsführer that a message has to be sent to the aliens and he sent me to relay this to you," Fegelein told the Commando leader.

He gestured back to the truck where a civilian and a soldier were opening the back of the cargo truck. The civilian noticed Fegelein gesturing to him and stepped forward to join him. He was a nervous little fellow. Like he was utterly out of his league and wanted nothing better than to return to the safety of home. He attempted to smile at the thirty commandos staring at him, but got no response.

"This is Doctor Gerhard Schrader," Fegelein introduced the civilian scientist. "Like most chemists, he sought to help the world by creating pesticides to combat crop failure. Ultimately his discoveries led him into a much more lucrative field; one that you shall be utilizing for the first time in the war. He is the inventor of a new poison gas-"

"- _Nerve agent_ ," Schrader interrupted Fegelein. "Poison gas is a laugh compared to Sarin gas. Sarin gas is many times more lethal to the human body then chorine, or mustard gas."

There was no pride in his words for singlehandedly optimizing chemical warfare in such a way that it made Great War gasses look like a trifle in comparison. Schrader looked like the last place he wanted to be was here now. Otto could not blame him; he knew that Schrader had been coerced into assisting the mission. Himmler did not play games when he wanted something. He sent his personal goon to oversee it.

Skorzeny looked away from the submissive chemist and back to Fegelein once again.

"Is Himmler that infuriated with the enemy that he's willing to deploy an illegal weapon against them?" Skorzeny demanded, crossing his arms defiantly.

Fegelein did not seem to notice how disturbed the commando was. It was more likely that he simply could not care about it.

"They did not sign off on the Geneva Protocol or the Hague Convention," Fegelein dismissed as he continued to smile. "For the sake of expediency, let's forgo the conclusion you might have that you are given a choice. Himmler demands this, and so he'll get it. Otherwise…. well… unimaginable horrors will follow. Not even successfully completing your mission will not save you or your men."

Skorzeny's mouth curled up as Fegelein turned away and took the scientist back to the truck for a final inspection. Himmler's adjutant paid no attention to the fuming man he had left in his wake

Standing there, glaring into the back of Fegelein's head, stood Otto. After a moment, Otto unsnapped his holster open, his hand falling onto the handle of his pistol. Nobody walked away from threatening his family and the lives of his men's families. Not over something like this.

 _"I didn't sign on to do this, Herr Skorzeny. Don't get me wrong, I love the Führer, but this is too much,"_ one of the men whispered behind him.

Skorzeny did not reply to the remark. He continued to stare at the bastard. How easy would it be…

"Herr Skorzeny?" the voice belonging to Adrian von Fölkersam spoke from behind him. "Our technical expert has a few words."

He did not reply; he did not turn to give an affirmative. As the rage flowed through his veins, it took all his restraint, but finally released his hand off his pistol. He would not kill the messenger. He would oblige the Reichsführer's directive. He did not like it, but there was no choice in the matter. He wasn't about to risk his family for a bunch of godforsaken aliens that put him in this position in the first place. Perhaps it would humble them.

Exhaling, Otto turned and followed Adrian towards their quarian asset. Dalad'Voar was standing there a ways back. He had clearly overheard the topic judging from how pale he looked. Skorzeny did not even have to speak, the quarian stepped forward. His eyes darting from Skorzeny to the canisters of the Sarin nerve agent being pulled off the truck.

"Skorzeny, listen to me. I'm not a scientist, but I'm smart enough to know that whatever this weapon is, it's either going to kill quarians, or cause them life altering agony," Dalad spoke finally, his voice desperate for Otto to pay heed. "Hitler or not, no matter who the Kareon is carrying, there is no such thing as a military ship unless we are at war. You won't just be gassing military personal; you'll be killing or maiming a ship load of civilians as well."

Unmoved, Skorzeny crossed his arms and looked hard into the glowing eyes of the collaborating alien.

"Yet, you condone my attack, to take a war to a so-called civilian populated ship," Otto reminded him plainly. "What makes it different with a chemical agent, there will be death regardless, who cares how it is dealt?"

"They'll care," Dalad reassured the scar faced Austrian. "I condone it because I'm putting faith in organic compassion. You have to look at your targets before you squeeze the trigger, gas doesn't."

Before Otto could retort, Adrian spoke up.

"What happens if the gas is harmless?" Adrian inquired. "You're different then us, right? Who's to say it will affect you?"

Dalad shrugged and looked at the closest man he had to a friend in these past few months.

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter, Adrian," He said to Adrian before turning back to face the expressionless Skorzeny. "If in the off chance we aren't affected, you have to understand how furious they will be with you and your men for attempting to deploy a chemical weapon against them and civilians. They'll hunt you down regardless and they'll do it far quicker than Himmler could if you disobey. It's a thin line between fear and motivation to retaliate against a dangerous threat… this is that threshold, Skorzeny, I beg you not to cross it for everyone's sake."

His piece said; Dalad lowered his eyes away from the ever staring Skorzeny. Uncrossing his arms and looking at the alien with mild contempt, Otto turned away. He focused instead on Fegelein and his security team, who were setting down the last of the equipment required for the weapon system.

"Keep the crate there," he called out to Himmler's adjutant. "My men will be ready for the training exercise in half an hour."

The Oberführer obliged the mission leader. Fegelein waited silently as Skorzeny joined him once again.

"An excellent display of enthusiasm to be sure," Fegelein spoke to the approaching Skorzeny sardonically. "Reichsführer Himmler will be pleased to hear that you are following your duties to the letter. "I will make my leave. You will be in my prayers, Skorzeny; You and your whole team."

As Fegelein turned to start to leave, a voice called out.

"Wait a moment. If you're leaving, I could use a ride back to Berlin."

Approaching Fegelein and Skorzeny was SS-Gruppenführer Heinrich Müller. He was smiling happily at Himmler's assistant. He was very likely happy to be getting out of this place and back to civilization. Fegelein inclined his head respectfully for the Chief of the Gestapo.

"Herr Müller, I heard you might be this way," Fegelein addressed Müller rather boldly. "I cannot take you directly to Berlin, but it would be an honour to take you to Poland and arrange for your transport to the capital."

Accepting that answer Müller, clasped his hand onto Skorzeny's shoulder and followed Fegelein and his guards back to the Opal Blitz truck. Silently Skorzeny and his Paladin Group watched as the truck rumbled to life and took off out of the staging grounds. Skorzeny silently cursed Fegelein and Himmler for the situation he was being placed in –become a war criminal, or risk all of the lives of the families who were involved in this raid.

Next to him, Doctor Schrader stepped forward. He looked quizzical.

"The Russians signed off on both Geneva Protocol and the Hague Convention.," he pointed out to Skorzeny curiously. "Who the hell are you going to deploy this agains-"

Doctor Schrader did not get to finish the very good question. He never even had a chance to react to Skorzeny's fist hitting him on the cheek. Schrader's knees buckled and gave way as he collapsed in front of Skorzeny and the men. He saw Dalad'Voar's eyes grow wide in disbelief. Rubbing his hand, Skorzeny stepped back from the sprawled out chemist.

"Sorry, Herr Doctor… lock him up in Dalad's cell," he ordered of Fölkersam.

Surprised and suddenly emboldened by the act of Skorzeny, Adrian von Fölkersam nodded, enthused in the change of course. He bent over to drag the chemist in the direction of the headquarters. Skorzeny remained silent as Adrian carried the man off, leaving him alone with the whispers of his commandos and Dalad who was watching all of this unfold.

So it was decided: fuck Himmler, fuck Fegelein and fuck anyone else who signed off on him using chemical weapons against civilians. He would rescue Hitler and punish every man who threatened to wipe his family out. He would not be turned into a soulless husk like that Joachim Hoch. Unlike that short sighted, miserable cunt, he would be ready and he wasn't nearly as indecisive. Himmler would be dead the moment he found out.

Skorzeny turned back to his men and stepped on top of the crate of Sarin gas. He looked at each of their faces. All of them were shining with renewed enthusiasm.

 _"Men of the SS-Sonderkommando Paladin Group,"_ Skorzeny spoke to them. _"This mission will be undertaken how I planned it, how we drilled for weeks, how we. This mission will not be how Himmler envisioned it. It will not be a vendetta for him!"_

The commando team greeted him with a sudden cheer. It emboldened the Hauptsturmführer to press on.

 _"Yes, the quarians may be vile manipulators, planning on sowing chaos on our way of life in order to stave off their own self-created extinction,"_ he continued, ignoring the quarian amongst them as he rallied his men. _"But gassing their women and children is crossing a line none of us should be willing the cross, no matter how criminal a race they are. We want to give the quarians a lesson that they shall never forget. We want them to fear and stand at awe of us, we do not want to inspire them into retaliating because we escalated the raid."_

Skorzeny paused for a moment and stepped off the crates, he joined his men once again.

 _"We will go up there, take the Führer from out of their clutches and kill any alien trickster who stands in our way. If… when we get back, and Himmler still feels like he needs to threaten our families for disobedience, all of us will track him down and put him down like the rabid creature he had revealed himself to be,"_ he assured each and every one of them. _"He forgets one thing: Only the Führer is irreplaceable. If he tempts fate, if he gambles with the lives of the ones we love, then we will remind him just how fast power shifts in the SS!"_

Once against the Commandos exploded into cheers. Having said his piece Skorzeny turned away and was immediately approached by Dalad'Voar. He looked utterly relieved that Skorzeny had decided not to follow his new orders. Forgetting his place, Dalad reached out and grabbed Skorzeny by his shoulders.

" _Thank you_ ," Dalad breathed to him, smiling for the first time in months. "I don't think my people will ever be able to thank you enough for doing this, Herr Skorzeny. I'll… I'll tell them what you did here today. I'll tell them how many lives you saved."

Batting the alien's hands off him Skorzeny remained unimpressed by the solemn promise that the creature was making for him.

"You can thank us by doing your job to the letter," Skorzeny reminded the alien carefully. "Your freedom is on the verge of being retained. Now is not the time to hesitate."

Skorzeny turned away from Dalad and looked back to the rest of his men.

"I want a pit dug to bury those crates in," Skorzeny addressed them, gesturing the Nerve agents Fegelein left behind. "Afterwards say your prayers, have a drink or two and relax. Operation Elba begins in eighteen hours."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, and removal of a Patton and Bradley meeting Rommel and Gudarian section, too much wankery there.**

 **I was struggling whether or not to introduce Marta Hoch. I decided to keep her in, but I'm probably going to have to rewrite and rework her parts more vigorously.**


	17. Operation Elba - The Spark

**Chapter Seventeen: Operation Elba - The Spark**

 **…**

"Are you sure about this, Kaltenbrunner? We're completely exposed out here. The last thing we need to be is caught by the traitors out here."

"They will be here, Wolff. Müller has not failed us yet."

Watching as Obergruppenführer of the SS Karl Wolff sighed and stepped away to smoke his cigarette, Ernst Kaltenbrunner exhaled as well and looked away. The latest addition to the formulation of the post National Socialist organization, Karl Wolff had fallen out of favour with Himmler and Heydrich. It was Wolff who approached Kaltenbrunner when it became clear that Kaltenbrunner was running into a dead end in Madrid. Within two weeks, Wolff was friends with Franco, and had gotten the man eating out of the palm of Wolff's hand enough that Kaltenbrunner's relocation efforts were back on track.

Speaking Himmler and Heydrich; both men were now officially off in the deep end. Both men consumed by the war against the Wehrmacht, that they could no longer see the truth: that the whole system was about to collapse. Between the alien the apathy of the Waffen-SS, the growing discontent amongst the loyalist Wehrmacht men and the open resistance war in the heart of Berlin that was purposefully targeting only the Nation Socialists, their power base was collapsing. Now they were on their last legs; and because that was the case, they were down to using their last true believers they could find… the children whom still believed in Hitler.

Sending boys into combat… It was a despicable crime against the Germanic race. It would damage the blood of the country if youth as young as 10 had been sent out to fight. It was disgusting, and Ernst had a high standard to what disgusted him. Perhaps it was the thought of his young son being put in a uniform, given a rifle and told to die for a dying cause.

This was why he was here, waiting on Heinrich Müller to deliver the deviant Hermann Fegelein into his hands. Fegelein would help him in Kaltenbrunner's mission to do his countrymen a favour and shoot that Heinrich Himmler dead and finally kick in the waning power of National Socialism once and for all.

He had other reasons of course. Kaltenbrunner was not nearly as stupid and brutish as many liked to assume. Of the leadership of the Allgemeine-SS it appeared as though he was the only one who knew and appreciated the sheer power possessed by the quarians. Perhaps that stemmed from their audacious abduction of him. He also knew that the only way to save his own neck was to make himself an irreplaceable ally to them. Killing Himmler would convince that conniving bastard Halid'Zorah into seeing the value of having an off the books group of men who shared a few core values with.

 _Zorah_ … oh boy, that son of a bitch would have made a hell of an intelligence operative if he was born a human and German. He probably would have been able to blackmail the world into surrendering to the emerging National Socialist Germany shortly after the 1936 games, he was that slippery.

The rumbling of a truck engine coming down the road broke Kaltenbrunner from his thoughts. He pushed himself off his Stabswagen as Karl Wolff broke off his smoke broke so that he could stand side by side with Kaltenbrunner. It wasn't long before the truck came around the bend at a high speed. Undeterred, Kaltenbrunner stepped several paces forward raised his hand and waved to the truck.

The truck slowed down and swirled to the side of the road. The driver door opened and out climbed a Waffen-SS uniformed Oberführer. His hair slicked back and his face was contorted into an expression of rage as several soldiers jumped out of the vehicle. The passenger door opened as well and out climbed Heinrich Müller as well. Unlike the deviant Fegelein, he knew what was happening.

"What in the _hell_ is this?!" Fegelein roared at Kaltenbrunner and Wolf. His rage slowly trailed off as he realized he was screaming at an Obergruppenführer and the head of the SS-Reichssicherheitshauptamt were both staring at him like he was vermin.

"Herr… Herr Kaltenbrunner? Herr Wolff?" the Oberführer managed to get out, his eyes darting from Kaltenbrunner to Wolff "Isn't this a pleasant surprise. How… What are you doing here?"

Kaltenbrunner remained silent to Fegelein's question as he instead choose to first welcome Müller with a handshake. As Müller smiled kindly and greeted the cold looking Karl Wolff, Ernst turned back to the younger man, standing there with a stupid expression on his face.

Fegelein was Himmler's boy through and through. Himmler hated and feared Kaltenbrunner once Himmler realized that the apparently stupid and controllable Ernst Kaltenbrunner, who he appointed to control the SS-RSHA, was not as stupid and controllable as he assumed. So to be standing here now in front of not one, but three personal enemies to Himmler must have left Fegelein in a slight disadvantage and a cold realization of just how screwed he was.

"I received a call from Müller about two hours ago," Kaltenbrunner decided to grant an explanation to the dead man. "He told me he was travelling with a man that I had wanted to meet for quite some time…"

Kaltenbrunner raised his hand up. A rumbling came from the roads, which caught the attention of Fegelein and his guards. But it was too late. A quick succession of fire shredded through the truck Fegelein had been travelling in, tearing the vehicle apart and the men limb from limb. The truck exploded into a fireball that reached the sky.

Out of the woods pushed a Panzer II on home guard, its crew easily bribed by Kaltenbrunner. As the light panzer came to a halt, Fegelein turned back as the rushing of smoke blew over him and changed directions by the wind. His wide eyes looked up, only to find that Kaltenbrunner, Müller and Wolff had drawn their pistols at him.

"Hands on your head; get on your knees," Müller simply ordered the Oberführer, taking one step forward.

Shaking in panic, Fegelein whimpered as he fell down as ordered. His hand rested behind his head. Ernst stepped past Müller and moved behind Fegelein, pressing his Walther against the back of the man's skull, making Fegelein jump and flinch.

"As you can see it's not a very friendly visit between compatriots," Karl informed Fegelein as he tucked his pistol into his holster. His expression remained completely impersonal as he stepped forward. "I'll get straight to the point, Fegelein. Where in the _hell_ is Himmler?"

It took only about two second to break the man's resolve.

"Krakow!" he screamed wildly. "I'm meeting him in Krakow! He'll be in the old _Krakau Rudolfskaserne_ barrack with his family! Oh _God_ , please don't _kill_ me!

Kaltenbrunner, Wolff and Müller shared a mutual glance. For a decorated war hero and noted exterminator, they had expected at least a little spine from a man like him. Karl Wolff was struggling to not smile. His body shook with his suppression of mocking laughter for the mess lying underneath their feet. Müller remained perfectly stony faced.

"Huh," Kaltenbrunner spoke up, his voice fighting to remain neutral as like Karl; he wanted nothing better than to laugh at Fegelein. "Heinrich, you left me with the impression that this man was a diehard loyalist to Himmler; that we'd have to work him over for the truth."

Oddly enough, it was the Chief of the Gestapo who lost his self-control first. Heinrich Müller exploded into genuine laughter at the expense of 'poor' Fegelein.

"M-my apologies, Ernst;" was Heinrich's stuttering response. "I assumed that Himmler would choose someone diehard to him as an adjutant..."

Grinning at his friend, Kaltenbrunner pulled back his pistol hammer, just to watch Fegelein jump on his knees. Disgusting wretch, the world would be a cleaner place with him dea-

" _Look, you can't kill me!_ " Fegelein suddenly screamed out. "Whatever it is you have planned with the Reichsführer will fail if I don't check in with him!"

Ernst could no longer help himself; he let out a low chuckle.

"There's nothing much to my intentions, really. I'm going there to execute his family and then kill him once I'm done with them. I'll make a phone call and he'll be detained before he can flee," Kaltenbrunner decided to explain to the dead man. "I think you want to die. I mean, if you wanted to really bargain for your life, you wouldn't have shared me his location until we arrived in Krakow, you _fucking_ idiot!"

The three SS officials exploded into wild hyena-like laughter at the expense of the man. Underneath Kaltenbrunner, Fegelein turned back, the barrel of the pistol now shifted until it was now pressed against Hermann's forehead. His wide eyes looked up into Kaltenbrunner's. He looked utterly pathetic.

"No listen to me, please. That's the _last_ thing you want to do right now," Fegelein spoke, his voice surprisingly calmed now. "Not when you don't know what your mate Skorzeny is doing for Himmler…"

The laughter and humour died in Ernst's expression, as it did the rest of the Triumvirate of the New Order. The odious reference to Skorzeny made Kaltenbrunner narrow his eyes at the bastard kneeing before him. Without warning, the Chief of the RSHA smashed his pistol hard into the side of Fegelein's head, knocking the bastard over. Kaltenbrunner threw off his cap and pressed his knee hard into the dazed Himmler loyalist's neck, making Fegelein gasp.

The burst of rage did not sate Ernst. What was Skorzeny doing for Himmler? What madness possessed Skorzeny to do this?

"Speak quickly or I'll tie to my bumper by your legs and drive you back to Krakow," Kaltenbrunner warned the Oberführer, pressing the barrel into the side of his neck.

As the man struggled to breath, Ernst finally found his mercy and released the straining pressure. Only enough for Fegelein to catch his breath and regain his senses once again.

"Himmler… Himmler sent me to deliver a shipment of poison nerve gas to Skorzeny. Skorzeny is going to liberate the Führer and then gas the ship he's been detained in," Fegelein wheezed out to the group. "W-when he does that, the… the quarians are going to be looking for his blood when they land. Its Himmler's little punishment for his unwavering loyalty to you; you see… whether he realizes it or not –and I highly doubt that he does- it's his life or his freedom being exchanged for his family's survival. Even if the Führer isn't rescued, then at the very least Skorzeny has been punished in Himmler's eyes…"

Kaltenbrunner's grip on his pistol wavered as Fegelein turned away and focused on Müller and Wolff's shoes. Skorzeny… that stubborn son of a bitch… of all things he could have done, working with Himmler and agreeing to gas the quarians was the by far the most stupid idea Skorzeny likely ever had. It was Skorzeny's damnably foolish loyalty to Hitler – a man who either would never spend another day free, or killed within hours of escape- that drove the commando into coordinating with the delusional Himmler.

He should have expected this, really. Skorzeny always told him that his loyalty to Hitler would not cease until his dying breath. Kaltenbrunner's cynical nature assumed that they were empty platitudes spoken by Otto, meant to further his career. Apparently it was an actual conviction…

"I know all about what this is. You intend on knocking off Heydrich and Himmler," Fegelein muttered into the pavement. "You can kill Himmler, sure, but Heydrich is where you need Skorzeny. Whatever you have planned, the last thing you need is your commando assassin being hunted for a perceived crime against the aliens… or else your claims to control this little post government outfit will be voided by Heydrich's escape."

His piece said, Fegelein fell silent and allowed his words to simmer in Kaltenbrunner. Exhaling, Ernst pulled the pistol away from Fegelein's neck and turned his eyes to Heinrich Müller. The Gestapo Chief looked rather nervous. He was, after all, in the company of Skorzeny for several days…

"Anything he's saying ring a bell, Müller?" Wolff spoke the unspoken question before Ernst could verbalize it.

Looking from Fegelein and then back to Kaltenbrunner, Müller gave a curt nod.

"Yes, but I was under the impression you were aware of this; that you condoned this act," Müller admitted. "I mean, it was the only way Skorzeny enlisted my help. He flat out told me that you commissioned the cooperation…"

Whether Müller was throwing Skorzeny under the bus, or telling the truth, Kaltenbrunner could not tell. Exacerbated by the whole fuck up, Kaltenbrunner flared his nostrils as he let out an audible groan.

"I did not want this in the _slightest_ ," Kaltenbrunner addressed the Gestapo Chief. "If we want our group to survive this storm, we need to work on our _communication_ …"

A low murmuring came from Wolff and Müller. They were in apparent concurrence. Brooding, it took Fegelein shifting in place to catch Kaltenbrunner's attention once again. Licking his chapped lips, Fegelein looked like one of the Jew rats attempting to make a deal.

"You need a bargaining chip. The delivery of Himmler to the Wehrmacht and Aliens is Skorzeny's only feasible route to his exoneration," Fegelein once again reiterated, even daring to smile. "If Himmler gets so much of a whiff, he'll kill himself or flee before you or your boys get within a kilometre of him…"

Kaltenbrunner remained silent and still. The only movement he made was raising his pistol and pressing it once again against his forehead.

"Shall the Triumvirate make its first decision?" Kaltenbrunner called out to Wolff and Müller.

Müller and Wolff shared a look.

"I hate to say it, but the little shithead is right, suicide is something that jumpy Himmler would do," muttered Heinrich Müller finally, rubbing the back of his neck as he dropped his pistol to his side.

"I'm with Müller on this," Karl Wolff agreed as he stepped back from Fegelein and Kaltenbrunner. "As much as he deserves having his brains splashed across the pavement, perhaps he may serve us well for the time being."

With both Wolff and Müller in agreement that Fegelein was still necessary to their cause for the time being at least, Kaltenbrunner growled lowly and stood up, towering over the sprawled out man. His leg snapped out and kicked Fegelein hard in his side.

"Agreed and passed. Oh, I hate it when people I want dead justify their own existence. This is Hoch all over again…" Kaltenbrunner hissed as he tucked his pistol back into his belt holster.

Fegelein struggled back up onto his knees, His hands clutched around Kaltenbrunner as though he were a lifeline. He buried his face into his knees. Disgusted, Kaltenbrunner looked up and found both Wolff and Müller highly amused by the display of submission by the slippery bastard.

"I-I _swear_ on my life – which I love above all else - that I will never give you reason to revoke your gift," Fegelein grovelled pathetically. He was happy to survive at least one more day, and he was apparently unaware that that his use could be dried up sooner than he would like.

Kicking Fegelein off him, Kaltenbrunner moved towards the car. They had a long journey to Krakow, and they needed to make it their as fast as they could.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Pacing back and forth for the past hour or so, Joachim Hoch knew that could not be in more of a conundrum.

Behind the hotel door he was pacing in front of was his Mother, awaiting her child's judgement. She should have been dead; but no. Nothing was ever simple for Joachim, was it? He had long since comes to terms that she was dead and gone. After the initial shock and regret that she had died, Joachim quickly felt a longstanding burden finally lifted off his shoulders. Gone was her facade of apathy she hid behind as she made her judgements of him. But it was not to be.

Privately -and he would never dare to admit it out loud- Joachim had to commend her resourcefulness and commitment to what she believed in. Most women were either to materialistic to sell her treasured possessions to help others, or too stupid to think on the fly and do something as clever as to fake their own death. Marta Hoch might have been liberal socialist scum of the worse sort, but her dedication to doing the right thing was something to be admired. It was little wonder why she hated her child. He veered off her path long ago and blindly followed the Führer into the hell that was the war. Really, if he was in her position and his child was as much of a bastard as he had been, he too would likely be devastated.

Still, saving Jews and subverting the government did not spare her completely from his wrath. As much as he came to terms with what she had done and the reasons why she hated him, he still hated her. He still wanted the vile bitch to suffer in any way imaginable. She might have been doing the right things, but she deserved none of his compassion.

If it was up to him, he would pack up some provisions, find her a car and gasoline ration tickets and tell her to drive as far as she possible could away from him and stay away for the rest of her life, but he could not do that…. Not yet anyways. He promised Hanala that he would not hold any further secrets from her. The fact that Marta Hoch was alive meant that Hanala had to meet the woman at least once. She needed to see what sort of awful bitch she was so that Joachim could justifiably cut off his ties with her for good.

Besides, the last thing Saleb needed in her life was a second, significantly less pleasant version of her Grandmother Galina.

"Hoch?"

Ceasing his pacing, Joachim turned around and found Tatiyana Andrusiv standing there. He hands were clutching to a tray. One it was two slices of ersatz sawdust bread and potato turnip soup. Joachim grimaced at the sight. Soup was a generous term. It looked like some sort of slop fed to pigs in troughs.

"I could find her something more nourishing," Tatiyana murmured, scrunching up her noise. "She is your mother, after all. It wouldn't be that much of a hassle…"

Joachim could only shake his head, dismissing her suggestion.

"Fuck her," he told the Ukrainian aide. "We don't waste our precious supplies goods on the dead."

Tatiyana remained silent as she nodded slightly, as if accepting to his thought process. Having known and seen true starvation, Andrusiv likely did not sneer at the sight of ersatz goods like many German women who did not know the meaning of suffering. As she started to set the tray down, Joachim reached out, his gloved machine hand gripping her forearm carefully.

"I want you to bring that in and stay with me," Joachim requested, his voice polite as he stared at the Ukrainian in the eyes. "I get an overwhelming urge to make her bruise whenever I am in her presence. I'd like you to keep me level, remind it's not… _appropriate_ to hit a woman... even if she's a lying, deceiving, gin soaked _cunt_."

As Tatiyana gave him a crooked smile, Joachim let go and stepped back from her. Straightening out his jacket, he stepped to the door and held it open for Tatiyana to enter first. Blanking out all his rage so that he did not have a coronary the moment that slag bitch of a Mother opened her cunt mouth, Joachim entered the room and closed the door behind her.

The room was bare except for a chair, a table and a bed. Mother was sitting on the bed, immersed in what appeared to be an English language novel. Her eyes refused to acknowledge the presence of Tatiyana or Joachim. As she set the tray down on the table, Tatiyana retreated back and as she passed by Joachim, Joachim stopped her. He reached into his belt holster and handed the wide eyed woman his pistol.

It was a joke… sort of...

Clearly not seeing the humour in Joachim's sidearm being stored with her; Tatiyana retreated and stood by the door, hiding the pistol away as her eyes darting from Marta to Joachim. Joachim stepped forward. He was unsure where to start, so he simply stood there, his hands behind his back as he stared down on the woman.

"How long do you intend on holding me for?" she asked finally, breaking the silence but not bothering to look up at her child.

Joachim remained silent for a moment longer still. With a slight sigh, he dropped his hands to his sides. His boots clicked loudly on the hardwood as he turned the chair around sat down across from her. It was far enough to keep him out of arm's length of strangling her.

"For as long as I see fit," Joachim replied in English. He preferred the conversation undecipherable to Tatiyana. "Perhaps you think that because we're blood related, I'll be obligated to release you. Let me assure you right now that that will not happen. I spent a year thinking you were dead. Locking you up for another year is not something I shall lose sleep over..."

The threat did not move her.

"I wouldn't hold my breath for your charity," Marta replied as she turned the page. "You've always been a selfish, violent boy. I should not expect you to change that much… even if you're a _war hero_ now."

A minute and twelve seconds into their encounter, Joachim's rage already got the better of him. He stood up and kicked the chair out from underneath him; he stormed forward and loomed right over his Mother. Marta remained perfectly still as her giant son postured. She simply flipped another page, her fingertips touching the page in almost a caress, her lips silently reading out loud.

"Say what you need to say, _boy_ , hit me if you need to," Marta spoke again. "There is nothing you can do that your Father hasn't already done. I'm sure he'd be proud you took up his traits…"

Joachim's nostrils were flared; he was nearly in a fit. His rage and terrible temper put the fear in hearts of many had no effect on Marta Hoch. Her usage of _'boy'_ in such a mocking manner only served to further drive him from his frayed sanity. It took all his efforts to keep himself from reaching out and choking her.

"You _bitch…_ you _fucking_ _ **cunt**_ _!_!" Joachim growled at her. "Three months I was in the hands of the Gestapo because of my blood association to the likes of you and Father. You can sit there and pretend that you are in the right all you like, but you and I know that you don't have an ounce of integrity, no matter how many people you tried to save!"

That was all it took to finally spark the old woman out of her aloof state. She dropped her novel and stood up and glared sharply at him.

"You're not my son, how many ways do I have to say that?" Marta snapped back finally as she forced him back. "When that _Nazi_ showed up to grant you emancipation, I washed my hands clean of you. I have no obligation to do anything for you. I don't care that the Gestapo worked you over. I was too busy saving innocent lives to care; why would I risk the lives of innocent people just to help the likes of you?!"

Joachim stepped away from the woman as he absorbed the shattering words Marta offered her child. He had expected something like this, but they hurt more than he thought they would. He should have been used to this rejection by now, and still it put a dull pain in the pit of his heart and stomach. He had to grant it to her; she just knew the right thing to say.

Unable to retort right away, he turned away and retrieved his cigarettes. Lighting one up and inhaling before he turned back to Marta. Good manners prevailed, or perhaps force of habit. Whatever the case Joachim offered his Grandfather and Father's cigarette case to his Mother. She stared at it, perhaps remembering a past she once lived in; a preferable time than here and now. She gingerly reached out and took it from him. Marta winced at the sight of the Swastika that Joachim had a goldsmith etch into it in 1939. She handed it back and remained silent as her estranged son lit her up.

"I don't understand you, Mother," Joachim spoke, softer than before as he closed his lighter and pocketed it. "I don't understand why you look on me with such loathing, when I am the product of your apathy. You had every opportunity from the day I was born until I ran away to change how I ended up… you could have done something, anything to convince me otherwise and I likely would have listened to it gladly, because I loved you… and I never wanted to lose that back then…"

As Joachim fell silent, he held his eyes on his Mother. She was smoking as she appeared to be taking what he said to heart. Lowly, the older woman emitted a soft sigh.

"I couldn't help myself back then, let alone you. You were this little… _hellion_ and I had a drinking problem. You just kept pushing and pushing the limits, and I had no response to any of it," Marta finally spoke as she turned away from him. "Drinking numbed everything, and when you were gone… It was like a weight was lifted… I got myself back together again."

She paused for a moment as she returned back to her bed and took a seat. One leg crossed over the other.

"You're right, Joachim. You are a product of my apathy. The thing is, even if you stayed and were agreeable, it would not have changed much," Marta continued, her voice devoid of an emotion as she looked at her lap. "You were a mistake the moment I conceived you. Having you was a personal hell, and nothing can do or say can change that fact."

Taking a drag from her cigarette, she looked up and starred into Joachim's demanding eyes.

"I'm not trying to be malicious; I am not trying to purposefully hurt you. It's just an uncomfortable truth, and at the very least you deserve to know it, if only to relieve the uncertainty," Marta concluded, her eyes darting across Joachim's face. "I had _my_ sons, and I loved _my_ sons… and then I had _you_ for your Father's sake, not my own. I wanted _them_... not _you_."

Silence fell as Marta sat there, she remained silent and ashen faced as she waited, no, expected Joachim's anger to surge for admitting the blood betrayal as she did. Neither the anger, nor the violence came to her. Joachim remained perfectly still as the final confirmation settled in his brain. It felt as though his stomach was on fire.

"Okay…" was all that Joachim could choke out. "I guessed that that was your logic, I suppose that I just needed to hear it for myself."

Somehow managing to produce a painful smile for Marta, Joachim took a drag from his cigarette in dead silence. Marta, in spite of her resentment for the last link to her past, looked on him with a pained expression as well Joachim, shrugged.

She was right, although it was a terrible pain to realize just how despised he was by his Mother, and just by his Party association, but by his very existence. While that certainly hurt, it was a hurt he would rather endure than the continuous pain of not knowing just where his Mother stood on him. For the first time ever, the relationship between mother and child was properly defined. It wasn`t a nice definition, but it was one that he could understand.

Still, while he knew there was no hope for them. One thing was left and that thing involved both Hanala and now Saleb. Hanala needed to know that Marta was alive. She deserved to know the truth. Whether they exposed Marta to Saleb, was a decision to be made at a later side. For the first time, he realized that he had a family of his own. Perhaps not in blood or marriage, but it was close enough to him.

"Look… _Marta_. I owe it to someone that they meet you at least once," Joachim spoke, his voice businesslike as he dropped Marta's title in favour of her name. "I don't intend on normalizing our relationship or anything. We'll revert back to pretending that we're both dead. But that person just needs to see you, okay?"

Marta tilted her head

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, her emotion drained out of her tone.

Joachim hesitated for a moment. He knew that she had no attachment or affection left for him. He knew that it was wiser to keep her incarcerated until Hanala met her for the first and likely last time. Against all of his logic, all his cynicism, he chose instead to nod.

"I'll give you the choice," Joachim murmured softly as he met her eyes. "If you want to leave, by all means go; however... well, I would really like it if you stayed, if only for a few days. I'll find you better provisions than this. I'll get you better quarters and more freedom… if you just… _stay_ …"

Joachim stepped forward and reached out. His hand took her arm. She flinched and looked at him carefully.

" _Please_ ," Joachim found himself begging. An act he hadn't done since the day he shot Gerald and Heinrich Fuhrmann down. "Will you stay as my guest instead of as a prisoner?"

Marta did not reply.

Pulling her arm free from Joachim's hand, she remained silent and backed up towards the door. Trying his best to not appear like he was betrayed by her, Joachim smiled and turned to Tatiyana, silently ordering his orderly to let her leave. Tatiyana stepped out of the doorway and silently watched as Marta Hoch turned and left her room, leaving her child behind in her wake.

Tatiyana stepped forward. It was clear that she wanted to do something, anything for him. She might have been unable to make sense of the English, but she was not stupid. She knew that something had transpired here.

"Leave," Joachim ordered with no command behind his tone.

Hesitating, Tatiyana obeyed his command, leaving Joachim behind to commiserate on what had happened.

He wasn't sure why he was so surprised by it, but he was.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"This... this is Flight Lieutenant Dalad'Voar vas Osalion. I was stationed on board the Kareon as a shuttle pilot between the Kareon and the research facility in Vienna, Austria. If you're getting this message, I managed to get the final repairs for my beacon and communication system. I recorded this on local time the twelfth day of the seventh month. I have been ground side for 156 local days as of this recording. I have been making regular attempts to get into Vienna after my escape when the attack occurred. I don't know what the hell is going on, but all I know for certain is that I don't trust a single ancestor damned human after what… what they did to us."_

The command deck of the _Kareon_ watched as the gaunt face belonging to one of their own was transmitted on the view screen. Several of the crewmembers were covering their mouth with their hands. In shock that one of their own was still apparently alive and fending for himself on that untamed, uncivilized planet all alone.

Standing in front of her crew, her arms crossed together, the Captain of the Kareon watched in silence as Dalad grabbed what appeared to be a male human by his hair and dragged him forward until he was facing the camera.

 _"Show your face, bosh'tet."_

Dalad pulled the man's head back so that the recipients of the message could ID him. Thick eyebrows, he wore a dazed expression, his face was covered in blood and fuzz from facial hair growth. Dalad likely beat in his face good and proper, which gave the Captain of the Kareon a moment of concern. Dalad must have been desperate to do this, even to a National Socialist…

 _"He calls himself Heinrich Müller,"_ the pilot introduced his prisoner. _"I killed his entourage and he was the only survivor. From what I gathered he's some sort of police general. He's been in my hands for the past eight days. He's wounded and I can't move him far and I'm hearing search parties all the time now. I don't know how long my damaged transponder and beacon can hold out for, but as soon as you get this message follow the beacon. I'll be right here next to the beacon with the prisoner…"_

Dalad trailed off, his sidearm fell to one side. He huffed and emitted a grim, exhausted smile.

 _"Please… I need to get home. I need to see my family… I need to go home…"_

The transmission cut off, leaving Captain Daer'Halios vas Kareon in a state of silence and quickly growing uncomfortable by the stares focused on her by a crew that wanted a response as soon as possible. She could not blame them for feeling like that. Dalad was family, presumed turned into ashes in the shuttle that was lit up by the German heavy ground armour. She personally gave the condolences to the family of her best shuttle pilot.

So now, to find out that he was alive… It brought a spark of hop back into her heart. Like the others, she assumed that humanity would greet them as saviours -guiding the struggling young race back from the brink of insanity. Instead in a few short hours, the dream became a nightmare and before she knew it, she had nearly two hundred dead men and women, killed at the hands of humans; amongst them, Admiral Jarva's own son and daughter-in-law. It was a dark day to deal with that catastrophe; a frightening display of human manipulation.

She needed to get back Dalad. She needed at least one small win.

"I ran the human through the databanks," her intelligence officer spoke, looking up from his terminal. "The human is double confirmed for Heinrich Müller. He's the head of their secret police. There is quite a bit of chatter about his disappearance. They're saying that he fled the country under the guise of a trip to bolster the local National Socialist underground in Austria."

Breaking her stare at the paused image of Dalad'Voar on the screen, the Captain turned back to the source of the comment.

"Where are the Admirals?" she asked.

"Hanala'Jarva is in a meeting with Adolf Hitler and has requested not to be disturbed," her intelligence officer replied. "Halid'Zorah is suspended and is in the Compassionate Action industrial factory on Luna, Utala'Falan is in the Mandate, Habva'Vaerhit is extracting Methane gas on Neptune and Alaan'Jarva is heading to Mars to organize the Heavy Fleet."

Daer frowned and looked away. She knew all too well the dangers of interrupting Jarva's. Hanala'Jarva being disturbed during a visitation with the dictator could ruin whatever it is the woman hoped to achieve. Despite being a dangerous despot, Hitler held a sharp mind and would notice something was wrong if Jarva left.

The only Admirals that had talent in extractions such as this had been Alaan'Jarva and Halid'Zorah. Judging on Halid's positioning, he was 137 million kilometres from Earth. It would take about an hour to do something. Halid'Zorah, on the other hand, was ten minutes away; but he was suspended and waiting on a hearing. He was not permitted with handling the operation.

There was only one person in a position of authority left. It was her. She was involved in every operation that the senior Jarva and Zorah had been involved with. She knew what to do. With her in a commanding position, she could choose who was involved in the processing. It would grant her an opening to override the Admirals and summon Halid'Zorah to help with the processing of the prisoner.

Sure, there were other options. She could get in contact with Utala'Falan; but she was inexperienced compared to the Captain. This operation would also have a far reaching perk. It would propel her career forward once the people begun settling Earth.

The window of opportunity was going to close soon. All planetary transmissions of quarian origin were intercepted by the spy ship _Fal'yaua_ and would be broadcasted to the head of the Admiralty Board, Alaan'Jarva. If Jarva got to that message first, then she would have to yield authority to him and postpone the rescue. She had to act now.

"He's one of our own. I'm not making him stay on that planet populated by violent apes any longer then he has to be," Daer addressed her bridge crew. "Send down a shuttle and a security detail. Prepare a holding cell."

As her crew went about their orders, Daer sat down in her chair and grabbed her datapad. She would have to send out a message to the others before the message was sent.

 _ **Sender:**_ _Daer'Halios vas Kareon_

 _ **Receiver:**_ _Halid'Zorah vas Hyleon_

 _ **Forward:**_ _Alaan'Jarva vas Rayya, Utala'Falan vas Idenna, Habva'Vaerhit vas Tonbay_

 _ **Topic:**_ _Urgent Development_

 _As of 13:27 local Central European Time, an unauthorized transmission from the Austria sector was relayed to my ship. The message was not live. It came from a Lieutenant Dalad'Voar. Voar was assumed killed in the Austrian ambush._

Latest developments have shown without a doubt that the Lieutenant has evaded capture and execution, and has instead taken a prisoner in the past few days. After verbal confirmation by the prisoner, followed by a facial scanning from the National Socialist archive, the suspect was identified as Police General Heinrich Müller.

Müller, as you are aware, is in control of the Gestapo. According to radio chatter, he has been privately branded a traitor by Himmler's clique for fleeing his post. By these two criteria's and as per Directive 27, he labelled a Class A fugitive who must be immediately apprehended and placed into protective custody. All Admirals in appropriate leadership positions have been sent this message. This message, however, is merely a formality. It is in my view that Directive 27b (The capture of a high ranking official can be ordered by the highest ranking officer if Admirals are preoccupied) stands in this case. As such I am sending a team to its location in a matter of moments following this notification has been sent.

All safeguards, with exception to the ban on daytime insertions have been followed to the letter. I shall take full responsibility to this action, including failure in the mission.

One of my own is out there by himself. I cannot stand by a moment longer when I know he needs our help.

Keelah Se'lai,

Captain Daer'Halios vas Kareon

Sending the message away, Daer'Halios stood up. She needed to brief her extraction team.

...

…

Watching silently as her strange new friend Magda Goebbels carefully applied a touch of eye liner, Hanala shuffled in place. She could not help but be nervous about what they were about to do.

For many months she demanded an audience with Hitler. Every time it was denied by Zorah or her Father. Now here she was on the verge of finally getting that meeting and she was beyond nervous. It had been because of what her Father said. That Hitler was now significantly sharper now because he was forced through a detoxification and was in the care of quarian doctors who weren't complete charlatans.

Somewhere, deep in side of her, she feared her own willpower. Hitler seduced a nation of eighty million to believe in his grand crusade. Perhaps not all would have followed him, but they certainly weren't displaying resistance to him until they arrived and begun meddling in the military's affairs

"Are you ready for this?" Hanala inquired, her voice strained as she watched Magda still. "We can back out if you do not comfortable about it. _Keelah_ , I know I'm uncomfortable with it."

Magda remained perfectly silent. She appeared to be debating just how to reply to the question. It was clear that she wanted to see Hitler, but perhaps a small, small part of her was starting to actually believe in Hanala's work. It was enough at least to make her pause.

"It's been so long since I saw him. I don't know how he will react… I don't know how I will react," Magda spoke, surprising Hanala with the strange admittance. "Force of habit is a very dangerous thing… how did your human handle it?"

Hanala looked up to watch as Magda stared at her through the smoke of her cigarette which dangled from the tips of her fingers delicately. Although there was some sort of truce between the two of them, Magda still very much disliked Joachim. Even after the revelation came out that he saved her and her children from death. It would be quite some time before that relationship was properly re-established.

"Extermination committed in the name of Hitler pretty much cut that link. Then came the deaths of people he cared for…" was Hanala's response as Magda sexily inhaled her cigarette. "On occasion… I do think… _well_ … I think he _misses_ it. He flat out told me that he was unlikely he'll be ever free of his own National Socialism. I don't understand why. I mean, I get why, but I don't understand it still…"

Tapping her cigarette, Magda looked like she was about to reply, when the eldest of her children with Goebbels –Helga burst into the bedroom. She was dressed right up in a proper dress and looking between her curious mother and the silent quarian woman. Of all the children, Helga hated Hanala the most. She was the only one who seemed to understand what was happening here. She understood that events caused by the quarians had led to her Father's death. Because of that, the child was the one who stood up and rallied the most against everything her friendly captors stood for. Ten years old and she was already a fierce fight. It was impressive to say the least.

" _Yes_?"

The remark from Magda turned Helga's glare at Hanala into a look of eagerness as she redirected her eyes towards Magda.

"We're actually going to go and see Uncle Adolf?" Helga asked her mother.

Hanala's mouth twisted up into a horrified expression. The man had likely given the orders for extermination and started a flagrant war which Hanala grew more and more leery about, and the children of Magda called Hitler _'uncle'_?

As Hanala locked her eyes back to Magda, she found the Mother was challenging Hanala to speak up and say something awful. Sighing, Hanala decided it was not in anyone's best interest to start that debate just yet. She remained silent ad watched as Magda offered a thin smile to the girl extended her hand outwards. Helga stepped forward into the Mother's small embrace.

"Yes, we shall be seeing Uncle Adolf soon enough. I have no doubt in my mind that he has missed you and your siblings," Magda addressed her second eldest softly. "Please, would you kindly be my hand and voice; and make sure that they are ready?"

Helga nodded and stepped back. She turned around and paused long to give Hanala one more little glare before sweeping out of the bedroom, leaving Magda and Hanala alone once again. Inhaling her cigarette once again, Magda stood up and sat down next to Hanala on the edge of her bed. With her free hand, Magda reached out and squeezed Hanala's.

"National Socialism isn't just a political theory to back. It's a lifestyle. If you had good blood, dedication to the party you could go far and trust me, you can't turn back from it easily," Magda spoke finally, not letting go of Hanala's hand as her blue eyes looked into Hanala's illuminate silver. "In some ways I suppose it was a meritocracy in some ways. But even if you did not believe in their politics, you could still benefit. The Führer brought us back from the brink of disaster. He saved us all from unfettered capitalism. You did not need to be a party comrade to be loved by him."

Hanala remained silent. She did not like the idea of Adolf Hitler as a stern, but loving father to his people.

"Surely there had to be another way," she muttered to herself.

Smirking as she tapped her cigarette out in her ashtray, Magda reached up and like Hanala had been one of her children, she grazed the side of her cheek. A chill ran through her. There was something wrong in her affection. It was cold… detached. Sure, Magda was a doting mother, but it became clear why the Goebbels children were so obedient. It was like true affection was next to impossible to display for her.

"Hanala, my _dear, sweet, murderous_ girl; you keep speaking of choices; and I always find myself wondering just what those other choices are exactly?" Magda inquired curiously, smiling almost condescendingly to the quarian.

As Magda's hand slipped off of Hanala's cheek and took her hand. Looking at Magda's hand for a moment, Hanala squeezed back. She had to admit she did not know much about the government that preceded the National Socialists. All that she knew of Weimar was the hatred expressed by the waning National Socialists in her life –namely Joachim and Magda; both of whom violently expressive to their distain to the western capitalists supported government.

"Do you know how Weimar government raised the standard of living shortly after we were forced to settle at Versailles and the hyperinflation set in?" Magda pressed on. "They borrowed money from the Americans –Money that the Americans assured the government they would have decades to pay back. They trusted the Americans. Why would the Americans, who rallied so hard against the British and France about the unjust nature of the peace accord and the odious assumption that we were anymore guilty for the war than anyone else, go back on their assurances to us?"

Magda's tone was mocking as she spoke about the dependence the Germans had on American wealth. Hanala knew this part all too well. It was one of the first things she heard from Joachim on the topic.

"Germany was finally pulling herself out of the inflation and standing back on her feet, all seemed fine. The National Socialists became a joke fringe party as Germany's standing grew stronger. Then, of course, the American plutocrats crashed their economy," the woman continued as she looked away from Hanala at long last. "It wasn't long before the short sighted Americans came collecting on German debt. As Germany collapsed back into destitution, the National Socialist mantra of shutting Germany off from the world and finding our own personal strength to stand on our feet became not just feasible, but preferable to willingly gambling our livelihood on a stock market with a handful of bankers and traders in control of our fate."

Magda trailed off as she let go of Hanala's hands so that she could have another cigarette.

"It's as I said, love," she concluded, faintly smiling. "Very few are afforded a choice. This is why we love our Führer. He wiped away such illusions and showed us the world as it was."

Returning to applying her makeup, Hanala looked away and tried to ignore the urge to continue the argument. She still had trouble trying to comprehend the intricacies of human politics. The fleet was simple. It calls for survival and the continuation of the quarian species at any cost. Humans were afforded the luxury of division.

Privately it scared her as she applied Magda's words to her Joachim. Was this still how he thought? He said he was trying to change, but so was Magda. She had come to abhor National Socialism since they killed her brother, sister-in-law and the Langer family. She could only imagine the struggle Joachim, Magda and eventually the whole of Germany would feel when the irrefutable evidence of the crimes committed by the Party and in the parties name.

"Might I make a suggestion, Hanala?"

Hanala turned back and found Magda had rounded back to her, one leg crossing over the other as she smiled faintly for the younger woman.

"If you need to sit in, make sure that you tone down your attitude and opinion. The Führer does not enjoy the company of opinionated people, let alone women," Magda suggested as she tapped her cigarette. "Make sure you also adopt a stupid look, wear something other than that uniform… and bring along Saleb for good measure."

Hanala's eyes widened at the final comment. Bring Saleb? No… no way could she do that to the child. Hanala could not allow her niece to sit in with a meeting with a monster like him. It was foolish… irresponsible. Exactly the two things Hanala swore she would never be when she signed the documents which made Saleb her child.

Quickly taking notice to Hanala's unspoken, but obvious discomfort, Magda stood and placed her hands on her hips.

"If you don't bring Saleb, then I'm not doing it. The Führer has to believe that you are just another mother and civilian, or he will not regard what I say in the slightest. He will rightly assume that I am being coerced by you," was Magda's ultimatum, her mouth forming a frown. "Besides, it would help him see that your people are more than just alien in nature who abducted him… show a human side, if you will."

Faintly aware of Saleb and Hedda screaming wildly as they played together, Hanala swallowed and looked up to meet Magda's expressionless gaze. Silently, Hanala nodded in agreement with Magda's directive. She would take Saleb to meet Adolf Hitler.

Keelah, this is so wrong…

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"Hold your positions until my signal."_

Dalad could hardly believe his eyes as he watched as the T'Sova class shuttlecraft made her descent to the open clearing he was standing in, Skorzeny in a black hood and on his side for good effect. Unable to control himself, and for the briefest of moments, he forgot his betrayal of his people as he jumped up into the air screamed in utter excitement. It would soon be over. The nightmare would be finished and his family would be taken off the hit list Skorzeny had placed them on.

Metre by metre the shuttle descended from the sky. The heat emitting from the thrusters made Dalad shield his eyes and dragged the blinded commando a few metres further back. Skorzeny shuffled along with him as he too must have felt the vibrations and heat. His breath caught in his throat, Dalad watched overjoyed as the ship's landing gears were extended and the vehicle touched down on the grass.

 _"Sit down, look exhausted."_

The order breathed by Skorzeny brought the quarian back to reality. As the doors to the shuttle unhinged, Dalad dropped down next to Skorzeny, still lying there limp like Dalad had knocked him out As if it was possible. The bastard was built like a krogan and Dalad wasn't a shadow of his usual self.

Through the grass he could see a marine climb out of the vehicle. He was wearing a full environment suit. His rifle was raised at the tree line. Finding no sign of threats, he motioned for the rest of his team to follow. Obliging their lieutenant, one by one the squad climbed out of the vehicle and with equal vigilance formed up with their leader, their rifles at the ready.

The Lieutenant turned around and trained his rifle on Dalad. Taking it as a sign, Dalad stood up, his hands raised up in front of him. The Lieutenant's eyes widened and lowered his rifle.

"Stand down," he ordered his men, still in a state of shock as he approached the purposely haggard Dalad. "Dalad… I cannot believe you're alive… It's me, it's Malka'Batuai."

Dalad winced visibly as the man introduced himself. There stood one of his oldest friends who had identified himself to him. They grew up together as housemates on one of the many crowded frigates during the chaos that was the early formulation of the fleet. Before he could find enough words to respond, the marine had wrapped his arms around him and hugged him for a good, long moment.

Dalad stiffened a left over fear from the months he spent being abused and tortured at the hands of Skorzeny. Thankfully it seemed that Malka had not noticed it, or attributed it to the perceived trauma of being alone for nearly one hundred and fifty human days.

"Neither can I…" Dalad returned carefully as he stepped back from Malka dropped his hands to his sides. "It was rough… I'm happy to see a friendly face."

Malka smiled even wider.

"It's all going to be over soon," Malka once again assured the survivor. "We'll be getting you into quarantine, just in case, but we'll have you with your wife as soon as possible… she has been utterly _devastated_ since you… you vanished…"

Trailing off as he appeared to be choked up, Malka turned away from Dalad and focused his attention to the sprawled out body of Dalad's 'captive'. Malka reached out and smacked Dalad's shoulder playfully.

"This is the human you caught… quite the impressive capture, Dalad," Malka spoke as he approached Skorzeny casually. "I was briefed; he's the head of their secret police. Thousands of humans have gone missing because he ordered them vanished off this planet. It's good to get him in our hands."

Without warning, Malka kicked Skorzeny in the side. Skorzeny did not flinch, he did not react. Malka on the other hand retracted his foot and winced. He openly laughed. Dalad sighed, remembering how much of a prick Malka could be.

"Keelah, aren't you a big man," Malka mocked Skorzeny as he bent down onto his knees over him. "I heard that humans execute by hanging. They're going to need some thick material for you."

It took all Dalad's efforts not to reach out and warn Malka before Skorzeny reacted. His conscience begged him to reach out and force Malka away from certain danger, but his logic knew better. It knew that his family would be forfeit the moment he worked against Skorzeny's will…

In the end, this had to happen…

"I wouldn't celebrate too fast, _alien_ ," Skorzeny rumbled out, his tone menacing through the black hood.

Malka looked from the bagged human and turned his quizzical expression to Dalad. Dalad remained silent and watched as Malka stepped over Skorzeny and leaned over. Smiling behind his transparent helmet, Malka's hand reached out and pulled the bag from off of Skorzeny's face. Upon realizing that it wasn't Müller, Malka's eyes widened.

 _ **"IT'S A TRA-"**_

Before he could finish, Skorzeny bashed his face hard into Malka's helmet, cutting Skorzeny and cracking the faceplate. Malka staggered back as two dozen Waffen-SS commandos burst out of the dirt and grass they were buried in wand caught the extraction team off guard before they had time to react. One of the commandos threw Skorzeny a quarian built rifle, which he caught and pressed the rifle's barrel against Malka's broken mask.

The two groups, the quarian marines, and the Waffen-SS remained locked in a showdown. The inexperienced quarians were in a near panic, shouting in their native langue at the humans. The Waffen-SS remained quiet and professional. Taking one hand off the fore grip of the rifle, Skorzeny reached into his belt and removed a turian made heavy pistol. He extended outwards to Dalad's hands.

"Dalad, grab the pilot," Skorzeny ordered before addressing the marines. "Make one noise and you're all finished."

For a fraction of a moment, the thought of taking the pistol and shooting Skorzeny stone dead for months of pain and suffering inflicted by his hands and by his orders tempted him. Dalad supressed the thought and took the pistol. He ignored Malka as he looked helpless to the side to watch the interaction and made his way towards the shuttle as fast as he could.

 _"Dalad… What are doing?"_ Malka asked like a child. Skorzeny responded by tapping his rifle barrel hard against his faceplate.

Dalad did not reply. It was clear that Malka would never be able to understand why Dalad was doing this. He would never know the amount of duress Dalad was under. He never spent day and night being tormented by Skorzeny and his torturers. He would never know the starvation and dehydration. But still, that did not stop the lieutenant and friend from looking utterly betrayed in his body language.

One day Dalad would have to explain what happened, and that one day would be coming up sooner than later.

Until then, he had a family to think about.

Climbing into the shuttle, Dalad stamped through the passenger bay and into the ship's cockpit. The Flight Lieutenant appeared to be double checking the systems and was not paying any mind to what had happened outside. The helmet he wore sounded like it was emitting the faint sounds of beats. The pilot was actually listening to music.

Dalad groaned. He did not want to admit it, but perhaps Skorzeny's ranting and ravings were right all along. Quarians –or the military at least- were too arrogant and sloppy for their own good. Tapping the back of the pilot's helmet he waited for the man to turn around before he pressed the pistol against his helmet; the pilot's eyes widened as he looked up and Dalad, his eyes behind his mask cowed and begging for him not to shoot the young pilot dead.

"Turn off your music and stand up," Dalad ordered, stepping back one step to give the pilot room.

As soon as the pilot stood up and disabled the music, he pulled the pilot out of the cockpit and directed him out of the shuttle and out into the field. As he stepped out of the shuttle with the pilot he found that the several armoured transports and a light tank were pushing through the tree line and came to a halt. The commando team continued to stare down the sights of their rifles at the still armed extraction team.

Looking to his side, he noticed the dirt covered giant waving Dalad over to join him. He was taller than Skorzeny, but unlike Skorzeny, he was much narrower. It was Otto Günsche, the Waffen-SS commando who Skorzeny had assigned to protect him for the duration of the mission. Judging from expression of distaste, it was not a role he wanted to be given. Reluctantly, Dalad approached the commando. As soon as Dalad joined him Günsche reached outwards and snapped the sidearm from out of his hand.

"You are now in my charge, Voar," Günsche gruffly informed Dalad. "You don't move or act unless I tell you to. Do you understand?"

Dalad did not reply to the lanky German. He looked Günsche in the eye and nodded. His focused on Dalad for a moment longer, Günsche finally nodded and extended the pistol back towards Dalad, who took it back and placed it back on his magnetic snaps.

"Are you aware of whom I am?" Skorzeny inquired, shifting his weight in place. "You seemed especially shocked to see me."

The words spoken Skorzeny turned Malka's focus back to Skorzeny still kneeling on Malka`s chest. He looked like he was toying with Malka; his vanity was clearly getting the better of him now. The mere thought that his reputation had reached the ears of the quarians must have delighted the Austrian to no end.

"Everyone knows Otto Skorzeny," Malka gasped out, his voice biting and filled with great but strained anger. "We know that you were the one who led the slaughter hundreds of our marines and scientists for no particular reason… men and women who posed absolutely no threat to you."

Skorzeny's smile died off his face. Dalad knew the exact reaction coming all too well. Malka's accusations earned the leader of the extraction team a hard smack across his mouth. Malka yelped and nearly leapt back. He was too slow. Skorzeny grabbed by his chest plate and pulled the quarian back to him.

" _No threat_?" Skorzeny repeated. "By standing on my planet, threatening to turn my people into your slave soldiers through smiles and promises, you pose a threat at a scale I cannot begin to fathom. All those men and women wouldn't have died if your leaders learned to mind their business."

Malka, to his credit, remained unconvinced by Skorzeny's statement. His disgust was written in his body language. He snorted derisively and laughed lowly.

"We know what you did to Admiral Jarva's son and daughter-in-law – that you executed an innocent woman in cold blood and left their child orphaned - That you hung an entire human family because one of the collaborators dared to speak out and do something," Malka murmured as he shifted in place. "Veyare'Jarva was a good, honest woman who never did one selfish act in her life. Was Veyare'Jarva a threat to you? Did she need to be murdered?"

" Did you lament for the families everyone who died? Or was it just because she was connected to one of your accursed Admirals…" Skorzeny growled back. "If you activate your omni-tool –which I know all about now- I assure you it will be the beginning of a long duration of torture for you which starts with the execution of each and every one of your men… and women."

"If I step back and lower my rifle, I expect you to act like a man and honour the fact you've been routed," Skorzeny spoke again. "are we in accord?"

Malka did not reply. He wanted nothing better than to activate his shield and start a fire fight with the giant human that caught him off guard. While he might have wanted to do this, he was no fool and was not about to give Skorzeny the incentive to torture and murder his men.

It took all of his self-control, but finally Malka nodded. Taking the gesture on faith, Skorzeny took one step back, the rifle still directed at Malka. He remained at a state of alert for several more moments before Skorzeny lowered his rifle.

"As you can see, you're surrounded, not only that we have your technology mastered," Skorzeny addressed the marines with as much politeness as he could summon, considering the situation. "Unlike you, each and every man here has proved himself a soldier on the steppes of Russia. Four years we have been honing our war making ability. You lot are armed, but you aren't experienced and you're in no position to have the upper hand."

Skorzeny nodded to the tree line. Malka looked and found the entire support staff of Paladin Group were approaching them led by Adrian von Fölkersam. Armed with German made primitive assault rifles, they still outnumbered the marines twelve to one easily with the distant roar of German tanks behind them as insurance. Adrian marched the fastest of the new arrivals. He joined Skorzeny, who handed his rifle over to Adrian.

Adrian raised the weapon at Malka, allowing Skorzeny a chance to comingle with his quarian captives.

"I am going to go ahead and offer you a mercy none of you quarians deserve," Skorzeny continued as he walked in between the captured marine squad. "I am going to spare each and every last one of your lives if you cooperate. One hint of tangible resistance from even one of you, and all of your lives are considered forfeit. Humour me and my men, and you will be set free in a matter of days."

"Please, lower your weapons," Dalad found himself calling out to support Skorzeny's words. "For the sake of your families, survive this for them. Skorzeny has given you no bargaining position and has a high body count of our people to his name. Please survive thi-."

" _ **Traitor**_!" screamed the quarian closest to Dalad. A woman filled with absolute hatred for the collaborating quarian.

Malka earned a hard kick in the side from Skorzeny thanks to the shouts of his subordinates. The lieutenant collapsed once again with the commando standing high above him. It was enough of a blow to make the quarians fall silent

"Don't speak to harshly about Dalad," he growled down at the men, his tone barely repressed with annoyance. "Unlike you glorified civilians, he's been held prisoner for months. He's been beaten, starved, deprived of sleep and comfort. I doubt any one of you would stand up against our torment for nearly as long as he has. It is by his mercy alone that I simply didn't kill you all."

"How will we know your men won't kill us if you fail?" one of the marines asked in the silence of Malka, who refused to negotiate with the men holding them in a deadly position.

It was Adrian who responded.

"In the off chance Skorzeny fails, you will be released. I swear on my personal honour," Adrian addressed the remark. Skorzeny nodded in agreement. He did not intend on failing, but the matter did have to publicly addressed.

As Adrian made his assurances to the men, Dalad broke off from his guard detail and approached Malka. He kept out of distance… just in case. He could not let a friend to die here. He may have lost his friendship, but Malka was a good man who deserved to walk away from this still breathing.

"Listen to him, Mal," Dalad pleaded with his old friend. "Skorzeny and Fölkersam have already been men of their words to me. This is nothing worth dying for."

Malka turned his head and looked at Dalad. His expression was one of utter pity for Dalad.

"I don't know what they did to you, listen to yourself, Dalad. You sound like one of their drones. You're helping a bunch of mass murderers raid the fleet. They will kill a lot of good, innocent people… and for what, exactly, to save a mad man?" Malka replied. "This is treason, Dalad, they will trial you and you will never see your family for the rest of your days. You will lose everything, even if this ends well…"

The sound of rifles hitting the dirt and grass destroyed Malka's argument. One by one his men were surrendering to the Germans. Still defiant, Malka clutched his rifle, his eyes never leaving Dalad's. They were filled with righteous accusations of betrayal. Fölkersam stepped forward, pressing the barrel back into Malka's face.

"Keep harassing Dalad, I dare you," Adrian warned Malka, stepping forward.

Malka remained silent and forced himself to look away from the treacherous Dalad. With great reluctance, he dropped his rifle and joined his men by raising his hands over his head. Adrian lowered the weapon and stepped forward, pushing Malka towards his squad, leaving Dalad alone.

Skorzeny stepped forward. His large hand fell hard on Dalad's shoulder. Dalad, in confliction looked up and met the usually stern expression of Skorzeny. It had been softened to an awkward appearance of sympathy for the quarian he had held prisoner for all these months. Considering that Skorzeny felt nothing but contempt for quarians, this was a huge thing.

"If it comes to that, and you're trialed, each and every man here will gladly be witnesses to your defense if you so choose it… starting with me," he assured the quarian with a grave seriousness in his words. "You deserve our support, even if you don't want it…"

Dry swallowing, he nodded, understanding that Skorzeny was not just offering him an empty platitude. If worse came to worse and he was jailed the man would come to his aid somehow. With a slightly deranged smile, Skorzeny pushed him slightly, like what an older sibling did.

"Shuttle is hot," Dalad informed the head of SS-Sonderkommando Paladin Group. "We can go as soon as you're ready."

Skorzeny nodded and gestured to his men to enter the shuttle. As Skorzeny left and Adrian disarmed and led the new prisoners to the staging grounds, Dalad lingered behind them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in order to steady himself.

Operation Elba was a go.

It was time to liberate a tyrant.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Change: Clean up, Angst extermination**


	18. Operation Elba - Raid on the Kareon

**Chapter Eighteen: Operation Elba - Raid on the _Kareon_**

 **...**

If there was one thing that Tatiyana Andrusiv found fascinating about the mindset of Germans, it was how quickly gathered their senses, rolled up their sleeves and went to work cleaning up what remained of Kiel.

Hasso von Manteuffel had issued an official edict, putting all the loyalist prisoners to work cleaning the street and pulling bodies of their comrades, enemies and the unfortunate civilians who got in the way. Manteuffel did not have to issue the same order to the civilians. Like clockwork, they too went to work making Kiel liveable after the ground siege and air bombardment. Nearly four years into the war, it appeared that clean-up was sort of a second nature to them now.

Of course, this work ethic of theirs made the people dull and task oriented. Tatiyana did not mind that so much about that. She had found that excitable Germans were the most dangerous people she knew; and if the Wehrmacht wanted to wipe out the reactionary National Socialism in the hearts of a large portion of Germans in order to replace it with the more subdued traditions created during the Second Reich, then perhaps it was for the best.

Whenever she wasn't spending time with Christian, she took a great personal pleasure in wandering the streets and waterways of Kiel. Everything was so… bright. Living under communist rule for her entire life, it was a sharp contrast to the drab, unfeeling, unemotional way Leninist and Stalinist Ukraine felt to her. It was likely a part of the fascist appeal. To present a pretty picture for the whole world to see, even in the midst of a war. It was a stark contrast to the actual inhabitants of the city.

Before being asked for help from Hoch, she had spent most of the day working in the first aid clinics set up for civilians after the siege was lifted. Many were wounded, all of them were provided with inadequate supplies for treatment. The war within the war was not a high priority in the eye of the German High Command. They demanded all additional supplies sent east. Understandable, really, but there had to be a display of kindness towards the people behind the lines and caught up in the struggle between the government and the rebelling High Command. Neither side could survive for long when the people of Germany stood up and said that enough was enough.

Sighing, she ran her hand over her neck and stopped her pacing up the street. She ignored the looks of German women looking at her like she was an alien. Soon enough they would have actual aliens to stare at.

She paused and locked her eyes across the street. Speaking of aliens, she found herself Joachim Hoch; he was currently sitting at a table on the patio. Around him were five older men talking at him instead of to him. He had no interest in the dealing of them. He was staring right through them. He was dead silent as he drank his coffee and smoked his cigarette.

He looked rather… _strange_ …

Having been serving under Hoch in many different capacities, she knew that he was in a situation he likely did not want to be in. Hoch detested civilians, no matter where that hailed from. To him, conversing with them was a cruel and unusual punishment to be subjected to. It was not an uncommon trait as she found out. A lot of soldiers seemed to think like that. She knew that Christian could not look at people out of uniform in the eye. Was it a shame? Was it the feeling that there was no possible way that anyone would understand?

Whatever it had been, she could not allow Hoch to be stuck in the situation that he was. Oh, she knew that he could extract from it, but Hoch was quick tempered and might do something drastic. So deciding it was best to avoid that debacle, Tatiyana waited as two Opel Blitz trucks past her by on the street before she crossed off the sidewalk and wandered towards the patio of restaurant. She smiled slightly as Joachim blinked and set his coffee cup down once it became clear who was approaching him.

Pushing her hand through her dark hair, she stopped next to Joachim and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Her dark eyes falling on the older civilian males watching her closely, she formed a crooked smile for them. It was as kind as she could produce.

"Is there something I can help you with, _Fraulein_?" the oldest man inquired. He appeared somewhat displeased that the conversation with the Heer officer was being disrupted.

Tatiyana did not reply right away. She leaned over and pressed her lips against the side of the motionless Hoch's head. She felt the man freeze and tighten up. A strange heat radiated off of him.

"I was hoping that my _Oberst_ would buy me a drink," she replied, her voice surprising even her with the playfulness in it. Hoch looked up, his brain appearing to go into overdrive to figure out what was happening.

Coming out of his trance and shaking his head slightly, Hoch turned away to the smiling Tatiyana, and then back to the old men. He finally seemed to understand what was happening. So he formed a smile as well and nodded.

"Yes, you're right," Hoch returned as he pulled himself out of his seat and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Thank you for the coffee, gentlemen; I have an audience with Manteuffel in a few hours. I'll make sure your food stuffs are directed to your neighbour. "

Exchanging farewells, Tatiyana dragged Hoch away like a possessive woman, if only to put up the image so that the men did not stand up and follow Hoch into the café bar. The café bar only took light damage from the battle for the city, or by the hands of the western air forces. Its windows were smashed out and lightly boarded up.

"Greedy assholes," Hoch growled as they walked away.

Tatiyana chuckled to herself. If Hoch wouldn't spare grade-a rations on his own mother, what chance did they have?

Next to her, the Oberst was still in a rather foul mood.

"Don't tell Christian I did that. He would have a fit," Tatiyana spoke in an attempt to lighten his mood somewhat.

It worked to a certain extent. Joachim emitted an amused snort as he released his arm around her and opened the door for her.

"So long as you don't tell Hanala; she would kill the two of us," Joachim mused as they stepped inside of the café. "Thank you, though. I have a real problem with civilians in positions of authority. They think they are entitled to have an opinion on the wars they _don't_ fight."

They remained silent as they approached the bar. As they sat down, Joachim raised two fingers to the barkeep and set down his cigarette case and lighter in between them. Taking it as permission, Tatiyana reached over and took one and lit herself up.

"Hoch…" she spoke as she exhaled and looked over to him. "I'm sorry that she left like that."

Joachim shrugged his shoulders and offered her a mild grin as he placed the two tall mugs down. The grin was clearly a forced one. What happened only a few short hours was still on his mind and it hurt to place his attention on it. Tatiyana could not blame him. The things she said to him… she might have been trying to let him down easily, but there was no possible way to find the right words that condoned her virtual disowning of him.

"It was an expected inevitability the moment I found out she lived," he replied casually. "I was being delusional when I arrested her in the first place. I won't make that same mistake again…"

Tatiyana arched her eyebrow.

" _Mistake_?"

"Dragging up my past with her; I'm done with it now," Joachim elaborated as he slid one of the drinks over to her. "She told me her reasons for resenting me, which is more than I thought I would get. So I'm done with her now. I've got a future to plan… or play by ear. I just wanted to keep her around so that Hanala could have a chance to meet her and understand why I am the way I am. I'll tell her, but it's up to make contact…"

He fell silent as they clinked their glasses together and drank the strong German lager. Tatiyana frowned at the drink. She had been expecting them to serve Vodka, but here was something different. It was the first time she drank beer. She knew that it was like water to a German – essential to being German - . It was… bitter. Not stronger than Vodka, but certainly more bitter.

"Still, she did not have to say all that she said…" Tatiyana spoke as she wiped the foam off her lips. "You know…about you not being something she wanted. It was an awful thing to say to you."

Joachim stared blankly at her.

Tatiyana widened her eyes. Suddenly it all clicked in. Why he spoke English to his mother while they were in the same room as her. With all that was on his plate; from his actions against Hitler, to the losses he sustained as a result, to the slaughter he incurred and now the war, he had forgotten the reason why she had been permitted to stay with his unit. She was a translator in several languages… one of them being English…

"I know _English_ , Hoch," she nervously reminded the Oberst "It's why I was granted permission to be in your unit in the first place. Back when you were fighting Americans… remember?"

Joachim slammed the mug down on the counter. He ignored the stares around them

"Do you like _not_ living in Ukraine?" Hoch snarled at her in English. "Because if you do, then I suggest you keep your mouth _shut_ about what you heard or I'll have you on the next train east."

The anger harkened back to the days when Hoch was volatile against her simply by being nearby. Immediately, Tatiyana's hands flew up in front of her as a sign of submission to the display of fury. Slowly, Hoch's bulging eyes relaxed as he huffed grumpily and turned her focus back to the drink and cigarette on the table.

"You… you don't have to make _threats_ … you're a friend to me," Tatiyana reminded him carefully. "I don't tell my friend's secrets…. I don't tell anyone's secrets."

Appearing rather ashamed by his overreaction and threat, Joachim could not meet her in the eyes. Tatiyana found a slight smile crossing her mouth. The silence was an apology in itself. It was somewhat, sweet really.

"Right…" he mumbled ruefully as he lifted his drink. "It's… been a while since I've had a genuine friend… and never any from your gender that I haven't slept with. You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little rusty at it. I'm… well… you know…"

Tatiyana nodded as Joachim drowned himself in his tall glass.

"I know," she agreed, deciding to spare him an elaboration.

As the two of them lit up cigarettes, Tatiyana turned around in her seat. Through the doorway she could see the sun setting over Kiel. She gave off a soft sigh.

"You know, despite everything that has happened here… I think I am growing fond of Kiel," Tatiyana spoke up, deciding to break the silence between them. "This place is rather nice. It must have been wonderful to grow up here before the war…"

Joachim grunted slightly as he drank.

"We can't get too comfortable. Von Rundstedt just ordered general mobilization on all Fatherland fronts. We're starting the Berlin offensive in 36 hours…" he rumbled to her as he set his glass down. "I never did get around to asking to get you boarding. I checked out the place. The family I mentioned are delusional ardent National Socialists still…"

Tatiyana nodded, somewhat disheartened. As much as she wanted to be in the unit, she had to admit that she felt out of place, even in her multiple roles. She still lacked formal training and that occasionally broke up unit cohesion. Kiel was a nice city despite the hell it went through. It was warm and on the ocean. She could get used to living here...

A strange " _huh_ ", came from her side. She looked over and found Joachim reaching into his jacket and produced an old teletype transmission sheet and a battered pencil. Coming to some sort of revelation, he turned the page over and silently he wrote something down and then passed it over to Tatiyana. She looked at it briefly before looking up to Hoch, who was now smoking his cigarette once again.

"You can take this note to the prisoner labour allocation. They'll clean up and repair some of the damage my Mother's old house sustained," he spoke as he exhaled a mouthful of smoke. "You can stay there if you'd like. Nobody else is living there, it might as well be occupied."

Looking at the note carefully and then back to Joachim who was making a point not to look at her, Tatiyana smiled as Hoch proved yet again that there was more to him than just a uniform...

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

 **"Of all the** _ **foolish**_ **,** _ **irresponsible**_ **actions you could have done, you have really chosen the worst thing to do!"**

Fuming as he followed the platoon of marines assigned to secure the docking bay, Halid'Zorah could not have been more annoyed with the conduct displayed by the Captain of the _Kareon_ , Daer'Halios. Usually a responsible, capable officer, this was a rare display of a foul up on her part. Zorah was inclined to forgive the occasional foul up when it came to responsible, professionals like Halios, but this is was far too much to ignore.

Zorah had been in the middle of an interrogation when Halios sent her message admiralty wide. The spymaster Wilhelm Canaris had delivered to him one of the foremost armaments designers in the Reich. It wasn't Ferdinand Porsche or anyone in Krupp. The human in question went by the name of Heinrich Ernst Kniekamp, chief designer at the Waffenpruefamt –the arms testing department. His name might not have meant much for the time being, but his Project Entwicklung would virtually end the complex production work of the current Panzer designers and builders. In other words, Project Entwicklung would make the complex Tiger and Panther production obsolete.

Kniekamp's goal was a simple one: Follow Allied tank design and production a little closer. Currently the Reich was building scores of different panzers for the war effort. Those different panzer designs required speciality parts and engineers to maintain, draining valuable resources out of the already squeezed war industry. In comparison, the West and the Soviets maintained very little in variety of their equipment and could build them more and faster than the Reich could Project Enticklung would standardize the panzer armies of the Heer to use the same equipment for whatever the Panzer type and finally negate the advantages in armor numbers the Soviets had; more reliable panzers for a fraction of the cost.

So to say that Zorah was annoyed with receiving a message that for the most part amounted to a grab for attention on the part of the Captain would have been an understatement. She had no business enacting Directive 27b, which presumed the Admirals were dead, out of contact or on the other side of the solar system. Not a half an hour away.

Under no circumstances were humans permitted to board the fleet unless permitted personally by admiralty. Be it at their free will or against their will, and especially against their will. There was no telling what Müller might do should he wake up and realize where he was. As soon as Müller was collected, Zorah would personally return him back to Earth and placed into the hands of the Wehrmacht. The Kareon had its fill of prisoners at the moment.

"Sir, one of my own was down there for _months_. He has a high value prisoner. You yourself have confirmed it's the head of the Gestapo!" Daer'Halios argued as she followed him down the corridor, her voice rising. "I committed to the only course that was available."

As they stepped down the final stairs that led to docking bay, Zorah had to concede that while Heinrich Müller was no Adolf Hitler, it would be vitally important to have him in their hands. The list of top ranking Allgemeine-SS men who set up the extermination programs across Europe was being whittled down quickly. Silently, Zorah went through the list in his mind.

Ernst Kaltenbrunner had been exonerated for his part in capturing Hitler. Kaltenbrunner was somewhere in Spain, undoubtedly putting together resources and men for some sort of post-National Socialist Germany group. Knowing Kaltenbrunner, the group would likely work as a covert mercenary group that Zorah would very much like to keep in his employ if and when humans grew to hate the quarians and wanted to bring harm on them.

Heinrich Himmler was still alive and calling the shots. However judging from his paranoid moving from one place to another, he likely knew the extent of how much the quarians hated him and would be liable to kill himself the moment he was captured. It would be sheer luck to take him alive. It would be a miracle if he survived long enough to be trialed and either executed or exiled to the Super Maximum Prison being built on Mars specifically for the National Socialists and Communists the Wehrmacht captured.

Reinhard Heydrich was still alive and battling to keep Berlin the surrounding districts safe from the Vampyr resistance group, currently partially led by his own brother, Heinz Heydrich. The moment Heinz's family was moved deep into secured Wehrmacht controlled Aachen; the younger Heydrich went absolutely wild on his older brother's security of the city, blowing bridges and even bombing the Reichstag. Heinz had quickly gone from intellectual to soldier partisan, and was now gunning for Reinhard.

Thankfully there was a backup plan in place if Heinz could not get to his Brother. Heydrich was terminally ill because of his implantation rejection. Sooner or later the Hangman of Prague would be no more.

Adolf Eichmann, who had more or less came up with the extermination program was summarily executed by Rommel. Who in turn was now coveted by Utala'Falan. Rommel, who publicly was an infallible saint, was quite the opposite in private. The guilt of losing his wife during Heydrich's great retaliation had cooled that relationship up for the moment.

Finally there was Oswald Pohl, who was beheaded by Joachim Hoch on his order. It was not what he had wanted. Halid had specifically requested a clean execution, not the debacle that ended with him beheaded and his wife shot through the head. Hoch was understandably a muddled mess back then; but that muddled mess was far easier to control and direct then the sober conscience driven Hoch that came out of the personal hell he went through. He was currently firmly in the hands of Hanala'Jarva and the Prussians.

So yes, in some ways the Captain might have had some merit to her thought process about capturing Müller as quickly as possible. Still, it made him uncomfortable by her performing an action like this so brashly. This was a textbook power play, and after the debacle that was losing Louis Ferdinand Hohenzollern and the development of the civilian German Government to Hanala'Jarva, he was not about to let slip and make another mistake like that again.

"There was another course, Captain. You could have waited for an Admiral to supervise. This Dalad'Voar could have waited for two more hours so that we could verify the validity of the transmission," Zorah shot back as they rounded the corner and climbed down the final stairs to the landing bay. "You might be able to fool Jarva and the others, but I know when someone is looking to improve their reputation amongst their superiors. I wrote the book on it. At the very least you could have called Hanala'Jarva out of her assignment."

"She asked not to be disturbed," Halios explained away, her tone finally raising an octave. "I was inclined to listen considering she is in a meeting with the prisoner.

Halid tried his hardest not to roll his eyes at the explanation the Captain was offering him. Hanala'Jarva had her many faults, but if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was deceive unsuspecting humans. It was a talent that kept her alive during the first month of contact.

"As _stupid_ as she may be, she at least knows the dangers posed by humans; even if it took her being blown up and getting her sibling and his wife executed," Halid replied as he nonchalantly pinned the deaths of over a hundred and fifty quarians on her. "There are dozens of ways to extract someone out of an interrogation without alerting suspicions, and you did _none_ of them."

The two officers came to a halt outside of the blast doors, where two dozen armed security personal stood around, murmuring to themselves and watching the viewport. On the view screen was the shuttle. It had landed and was now waiting for the airlock to close and the docking bay to pressurized and oxygenate.

Zorah turned back and locked eyes with the Captain. Realizing that the Admiral was no longer toying with her, Captain Daer'Halios stood up straight and in a state of attention.

"Under any other circumstances, I would have you jailed for insubordination," Zorah informed the Captain, his voice remaining dead neutral. "Luckily for you, I've been suspended. When the ban is lifted, I can assure you we'll be discussing your liberal interpretation of Directive 27b with my colleagues. Until then, you will return to the bridge and monitor the situation."

"With all due respect, I did nothing wrong!"

The Captain's eyes narrowed at the Admiral. She looked at her Marine Lieutenant and left, leaving Zorah alone with the marines who were trying not to make it known that they were listening to the contest between their captain and an Admiral. At least she got one thing right; deploying troops to meet the shuttle was the right call.

Once again Zorah groaned. They were not his personal troops who were handpicked by him and had seen combat, men he could trust, not just glorified security guards as the German High Command referred to quarian men and women in uniform. Zorah was inclined to agree with their assessment. The soldier trade had been severely diminished even before the exile. It would be essential that the current generation of soldiers be trained by Germans and sent east to fight the Soviets for experience to pass along to the next generation.

It was long decided now that there would be no quarter shown to the Soviets. They were a rogue state the Earth would be better off with dismantling. Alaan'Jarva, a firm believer in empowerment, went to the Generals to talk them into shifting the war in the East from one of annihilation and conquering, to a war of liberation. It would be impossible to hold all of Russia, and the last thing the Admirals and future government wanted to do was resort to near constant orbital bombardment.

This was where the Russians came in. The surviving exiled or hidden White Russian leaders would be summoned to formulate an _'independent'_ Russian Federation. The Federation would be used as a buffer state between Germany, her eastern allies and the Soviet Union. Having heard the horror stories of Russian incompetence during the Great War, it would be essential that Germany pause and train them like it would be doing for Romania, Hungary, Latvia and, with some luck, the Ukrainians who while having been slighted by the National Socialists, hated the Russians even more.

Once the quarians collapsed the communist cause in China and established Chiang Kai-shek as the father of Modern China, the Soviet Union - or what was left of it - would be turned into an isolated pariah state wedged between four great enemies: Germany, The Russian Federation, China and the United States. There they would wither and collapse in on itself.

A chime caught Zorah's attention. The docking bank was safe to enter now. Zorah opened the remained silent as the marine lieutenant and her men bolted past her and took up positions around the shuttle. Zorah entered after them. He maintained his eyes on the shuttlecraft.

The shuttle aft door opened. There were no lights on inside the craft. Something was not right. Zorah stepped forward several paces as the guards raised their rifles slightly at the shuttle.

Out of the darkened shuttle stood the dishevelled looking Flight Lieutenant Dalad'Voar, his arm was over his eyes as though shielding them from the artificial light. He looked almost dazed and confused. As he gave a toothy smile, the guard detail relaxed somewhat at the sight of the underweight man.

" _There was a malfunction…"_ he started, but swiftly trailed off.

Without warning, the pilot was pulled back inside. Half a dozen flash grenades were suddenly thrown out of the ship. Halid's eyes widened at the sight. The charges exploded, blinding and deafening the security detail and Zorah, who collapsed to the ground, his eyes disoriented and his ears ringing. Through the ringing the explosion of gunfire cut through the shuttle bay. A barrage of explosions erupted. The rumbling of the explosives brought Zorah back to his senses long enough to roll to the side and bump against the legs of one of his men.

As he attempted to get up and do something, anything to help drive back the interlopers, a hand pushed him down and three bursts from a rifle roared just over his head.

 _ **"Admiral stay down!"**_ a voice called down to him. _**"We got th-"**_

The voice was cut off and a dull thump collapsed next to him. As Zorah's sight slowly came back to him, he found himself lying next to the dead marine who tried to keep him secure, her head torn right open and her dead eyes staring right into his. He had no time to apologize to her as more rounds kicked up around him, several cutting into the woman's dead flesh.

It took all of his effort, but Zorah found his strength and stood back up, grabbing the dead woman's rifle. He pushed himself behind cover and looked around it to face the unknown attackers making a slow approach. They were dressed like quarians, but they clearly were not. None of them wore the legging, none of them wore the gloves and their eyes did not shine from behind their reflective helmets. Halid blanched as the terrifying realization came over him.

They were humans armed and armoured with quarian technology. Not just humans, but Waffen-SS commandos with a singular purpose in mind. They had come for Adolf Hitler.

Zorah had anticipated that something like this would happen, but not in the way it was happening here and now. They were supposed to fight for Hitler when he was on Earth facing trial. Now, instead they overcame their natural fear of the unknown, in this case exo-planetary combat, and came here to take him in a sudden surprise attack. Most importantly… how in the hell did they figure out how to pilot a shuttlecraft?!

One by one the security team fell. The humans charged forward and flanked around the remaining team furiously trying to hold the significantly more experienced assault troops from reaching inside the vessel. It was futile. The last of them fell under the human invaders and Halid found himself the last one standing, still firing on the intruders and keeping them at bay. Why they hadn't killed him yet was becoming more and more clear. They needed him aliv-

As if on cue a barbed tip of an electric stun round hit him in the side. Zorah turned around and shot a burst of rifle fire through his attacker. He turned back and found a huge, bearlike human only a foot away from him. He lashed out and knocked Zorah hard on the ground. The man kicked the rifle out of Zorah hand and dropped his knee hard into the Admiral's chest.

 _ **"The area is clear!"**_ the giant German shouted at his men. _**"I want the MG-42's set up to crossfire on the entrance. Team's 2 and 3 prepare to move! Dalad, I told you not to make a goddamn sound!"**_

The human turned back to look at the groggy looking admiral. Slowly, the giant unlatched the helmet and pulled it off. The helmet fell down beside Zorah, who stared up into the eyes of the Austrian commando who had once protected quarian interests from the English only a year ago. It was Otto Skorzeny. His scarred face made his grin all the more frightening as he directed it to Halid.

"It's as I suspected all along; ever since I first met your kind: It would be your _arrogance_ that would be your undoing," the large human rumbled at Zorah

Heaving as he struggled to breathe with the massive human on him, and the electricity still shocking through his blood, Halid turned his head to the side as he gasped for air.

 _"Please… no one… no one else has to die over this…"_ he stuttered to the commando breathlessly _. "These people… They're good people. They did nothing wron-"_

Skorzeny's hand wrapped tight around Halid's throat before he could finish pleading for the crew of the _Kareon_. A sudden panic erupted throughout his body as Halid struggled in vain under the weight of Skorzeny. He watched, wide eyed as Skorzeny emitted a dark chuckle. His scarred face twisted up into an expression of amused mocking. The very thought of Halid put in this situation for the first time since he begun twisting humanity to serve his own needs must have brought Skorzeny a great personal pleasure.

"The great, clever Halid'Zorah is _begging_ me?" Skorzeny jeered his hand tightening its vice grip around Halid's throat. "The man who orchestrated a civil war that has killed tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of my people, toppled my government and has nearly lost us the our war wants to _avert_ the bloodshed the moment the little war of his reaches his own?"

Halid gasped for air as Skorzeny let his hard grip around his throat end. Instead Skorzeny picked him up by the front of his jacket and lifted the quarian right up to his feet. Tightening that grip on his clothing Skorzeny lifted the shorter man centimetres off the ground.

"It's _far_ too late for that now. Violence is the only language you _bastards_ seem to understand. You could have avoided this if you just left us _alone_ ," Skorzeny lowered his tone finally.

In his pain, Halid could only comprehend bits and pieces. Skorzeny's species isolationism was almost noble, but if he thought there was a future for a superpower Germany without quarian interference, then he was sorely mistaken. His Führer led Germany too far down the path of destruction by 1942. They would be doomed in their efforts sooner or later when the majority of industrialized nations stood against them.

 _"You won't win this…"_ Halid murmured finally, his head rolling to one side as he tried to gather himself _"You're obviously smarter than you look. So you know that I'm right. Your grand efforts can't sustain your Führer's vision for much longer. Not when the world discovers what we already kno-"_

Before he could force the horrors of the regimes that Skorzeny still naïvely defended, pain shot through his body. Skorzeny kneed the Admiral hard in his abdomen. Halid gasped and collapsed once again onto his back with the overgrown human standing menacingly over him. Skorzeny reached and pulled the larger heavy pistol off his magnetic strip and pressed it into Halid's lips.

Slowly, Skorzeny chuckled ruefully. He sounded… almost regretful in his tone.

"You're likely right," Skorzeny admitted the futility of his actions today. You will win in the end. The technologically advanced always conquers the inferiors; it happened in the days of Columbus, and it will happen here as well. You will stop what happens here and ultimately convince my people to accept this new place at your heel, or force them into subservience…"

Halid blinked blankly. Perhaps there was something else going on here. Perhaps Otto Skorzeny wasn't as delusional as he thought. Perhaps he was simply the rare principled men in the galaxy who was willing to lay down his life in order to stick to what he believed in; Unbreakable, unbendable and uncontrollable. If that was the case, then it would be the first time Zorah ever saw one with his own eyes.

Skorzeny pulled the pistol off Halid's mouth and stood up.

"I can assure you, what happens here today will come back to haunt you for the rest of your life," Skorzeny said, his words filled with anger. "I take one small comfort in knowing you're smart enough to take one awful question away from this: If we can do to you as primitives… what will happen when we're on equal footing, and you make an enemy of the human race?"

Before Halid could reply to the long term threat Skorzeny was professing, one of the other humans stood over him and smashed Halid hard, knocking him out into darkness.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

All in all the meeting with Adolf Hitler was going fine… All things considered…

Adolf Hitler was a strange being. He not at all what he expected him to be like. He was polite, almost friendly to Hanala as Magda introduced her as the only quarian who treated her with respect. Perhaps the politeness was caused by the top of the line medical treatment quarian physicians were giving him these many months.

Although Joachim told her that he adored children, it still surprised Hanala. He almost doted on the Goebbels children like they were his own in some way. He joked and listened kindly to everything the children had to say. He even offered his affections to Saleb when Hedda introduced Saleb as her 'three fingered best friend'. He shook Saleb's hand, smiled and offered her kind words.

Hanala did not know what to make of it. Perhaps it was him playing politics. While he hated the situation he was put in, he felt strongly that the quarian leadership was punishing the wrong men. He was extremely pragmatic about quarians. He even so far as considered them as misguided allies…

"Once your people land and become familiar with the treachery of Jewish-Bolshevism and the western plutocracy, the leaders of your people will quickly see my innocence of my so called crimes," he spoke confidently. "Everything I have done 1933 onwards has been for the betterment of German and the world."

Magda would occasionally issue looks at Hanala. Magda had warned him that women were not permitted to engage in serious politically oriented conversations with him. She had to be unassuming -stupid even- in order to convince Hitler that his hunger strike was not the right idea. As much as she hated the concept of not being able to be permitted to speak to Hitler on an equal level, Hanala refrained for the time being.

Keelah, she wanted nothing more than to rub absolutely everything she knew in the face of this bastard. She could open her omni-tool and drown him with the data collected from the extermination programs he more or less commissioned Himmler and Göring to do. The Heer were filling reports after reports about their crimes on the battlefield in order to cover their own ass. All of this was at her finger tips and she wanted nothing better than to tell the fucker that he would be hung within moments of his trials ending.

Perhaps on some levels he was right. The greed driven west was a huge deterrent to the quarian leadership, as was the collectivist nature in the east. Still it did not excuse what he di-

 _ **"WARNING, MANDATORY SHIPWIDE LOCKDOWN IS NOW IN EFFECT. ALL CIVILIANS RETURN TO LIVING QUARTERS AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."**_

The light conversations between Hitler, Magda and her children were short as a message blared over their heads and then repeated. Ignoring the panicked sounding Goebbels children and Hitler as he stared at her curiously, Hanala turned and opened the cell door. As she looked out, one of the guards was running by her. His sidearm was drawn as he bolted down the long hallway towards the exit.

 _"What is happening out here?"_ she called out to him.

The guard came to a dead stop and turned right around to the inquiring Hanala.

 **"I have no idea, Admiral Jarva!"** he shouted out to her. **"They're saying on the shipcom that we've been boarded by SS loyalists! How is that even possible?!"**

 _National Socialist loyalists had boarded the Kareon?_ Hanala's mouth dropped open as she realized quickly that she was standing directly where they intended on assaulting. No… this wasn't happening; this couldn't be happening! Quickly she pushed her sudden fear out of her mind and hardened her expression.

"Get on the line with ship command and call in for additional reinforcements. They intend on pushing into here!" Hanala called out to him. "I'll be with you in a moment! We can't let them liberate this bastard!"

Wincing slightly that Hitler was now fully aware of just who she actually was, Hanala turned back to Magda, who was now looking at Hitler with a renewed fear of him. Just like that her resistance against him was on the verge of collapsing. Hoch was right; it was hard to break down the loyalty to Hitler. It had to be even harder in the case of Magda who was personal friends to the megalomaniac.

Shooting Adolf Hitler her sharpest of deadly glares, Hanala reached out and pulled Magda by her arm, forcing the woman to look at her instead of Hitler, who appeared on the verge of raging out. Before he could say anything, Hanala dragged the woman out of the cell and closed it. Magda was shaking with fear. Her eyes were wide and searching Hanala's.

 _"I… I betrayed… I betrayed… I betrayed him. I-I betrayed the Führer,"_ Magda whispered weakly to her. Her eyes watering as she looked back to the door. _"I shouldn't have done this… I shouldn'-"_

"He's _not_ the Führer," Hanala cut her off. "He's a glorified _rat_ stuck in a cage. He is no one's master anymore. Not yours, not Joachim's, and no one else!"

Magda wasn't buying Hanala's words. She instead shook her head as her chest heaved. She appeared to be nearly in a panic attack. Hanala slipped her hands down and wrapped around Magda's. She pulled the weeping older woman down into her neck and held her next to her.

"Magda… I have to go out and assess the situation. Stay here; keep your focus on the children only. He is a leader without anything to control, so do not give him your ability to think for yourself," Hanala softly pleaded the panicking German. "So just… just jeep your focus on our children and I will be back in a matter of minutes. I'll protect you from him."

Hanala watched as Magda broke herself from her fearful shaking. She looked to Hanala with wide, pleading eyes.

" _Promise_?" she spoke like a child. _"I-I don't want to be like this anymore… I really don't…"_

Smiling kindly despite the creeping fear growing in her, Hanala returned the words by kissing the woman on her forehead.

"I swear it on my ancestors, on the life of my Saleb," Hanala promised Magda. "Be strong for now and I will be strong for you when I get back."

Waving her hand over the door panel, Hanala held her smile for Magda as the woman stepped nervously back in the room and fell on her knees to sit with her children. Hanala closed the door behind her and moved to join the security detail. She needed confirmation that the worst possible thing was actually occurring on her watch.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _Krakow_.

Of all the places in the Reich that Himmler could have chosen, he chose the worst possible city in the worst possible occupied land he could possibly find.

Literally, he could have been anywhere. The civil war was only waging in the Greater German Reich. Everywhere else was neutral grounds between the loyalists and rebels. He could be living it up in Denmark; he could have been in France, Belgium or the Netherlands... he might still have had enough sway to go to Italy. But no, the son of a bitch chose goddamn Poland. Not even the Pollack's wanted to live in Poland! It was the armpit of Europe and it would take centuries of German occupation to turn the locals into something somewhat respectable. Of all the countries to start a world war over, why did it have to be this dirty little hole in the map of Europe?

Exhaling the last of his cigarette as Müller pulled the car onto the curb; Kaltenbrunner dropped it out the wind and climbed out of the staff car. Straightening his jacket out, he looked around the streets. They parked a block away from where _Krakau Rudolfskaserne_ stood. From here they would travel the last of the way to Himmler on foot.

As he opened trunk compartment, a large cargo truck came to a halt. Out of the passenger side jumped a young looking Hauptsturmführer for the Allgemeine-SS. He slammed the door shut behind him and stepped forward to the head of the RSHA. Stopping a metre or so away from Kaltenbrunner, he raised his arm up in a salute.

"Hauptsturmführer Hans-Ulrich Kürtz at your service," the young officer greeted Kaltenbrunner, Müller and Fegelein with a click of his heels. "Welcome to Krakow, Herr Kaltenbrunner, Herr Müller."

"I try to avoid Polish shithole excuses for cities at all cost but this was unavoidable. You would be Karl Wolff's latest recruit, right? Did you procure what I required?" Kaltenbrunner inquired as he offered his hand out to the Hauptsturmführer. Kürtz returned the gesture and smiled slightly.

"I did as Herr Wolff asked. I've also paid off the men stationed around Himmler's compound," Kürtz spoke as they looked in the direction of the former Austro-Hungarian military barrack which held Himmler in. "Eighty thousand Reichsmarks was a powerful persuasion to look the other way. The only men in there are a couple of his bodyguards. We'll end their threat."

Ernst turned away from the visible barrack and focused on the smaller Hauptsturmführer once again.

"I want more than just everyone in a uniform inside the barracks killed," Kaltenbrunner openly clarified. "I want the support workers killed, I want the civilians killed, we have only room to take one prisoner and his family, and we need no witnesses to what happens outside of us. Will that be a problem?"

To his credit, the young Kürtz did not blink at the order. He instead shook his head.

"Not a problem in the slightest, Herr Kaltenbrunner," the young man assured his new boss. "We will drive the three of you to the barrack. It would be preferable if the pair of you were in the back laying low while Oberführer Fegelein is in the front. "

Noticing the dishevelled Fegelein standing a ways off, Kaltenbrunner decided he hadn't fucked with his head in quite some time.

"Don't honour my dog with a rank, Kürtz," Kaltenbrunner called out loudly. The moment the degenerate looked up, Ernst added. "Himmler waits for you, so get the fuck in the truck!"

Taking personal delight from Fegelein's cowed obedience, Kaltenbrunner turned back to the car trunk, pulled the long tire iron out of the trunk and slammed the trunk shut.

It was time to have a little fun.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"This is Squad two we have met stiffened resistance at the last 20 metres of the bridge. We have deployed the American anti-tank weapons and are keeping their throughway blocked off. We have taken three causalities."_

 _"Squad three is checking in. We have the engineering section pinned down. They have limited firepower to defend themselves. We have decided it better to keep them immobilizing rather than risking a counter-atrtack for taking the engine room."_

 _"Squad one here, The MG nests are keeping cut off quarian marines from taking the shuttle bay. Dalad'Voar has taken the intuitive and has gone to work disabling the interceptor space vehicles so that we aren't harassed by them during our exfiltration."_

The earpiece radio went quiet as the three squads awaited for squad four to check in. Pausing at the end of the long winding ventilation shaft leading directly over the holding cell level, Skorzeny held his fist up, his team's movement ceased by his silent order. Turning off the audio emitters from his helmet, he started his transmission in quiet.

"This is Skorzeny and squad four, we have reached our directive. I will check in once package is secured," he spoke to his men. "Should we not respond in twenty minutes… withdraw back to the docking bay and force the quarians into making a deal for Halid'Zorah's life in exchange for safe passage…"

He fell silent for a moment and glanced back to his team as they placed themselves around the airshaft exit

"It's been an honour serving with all of you, Paladin Group," he finished. "With any luck we will survive the day. If not… we'll make sure that the quarians never forget this."

Cutting the transmission and kicking out the air ventilation shield as hard as he could. The crashing of light metal made the guards cry out in surprise. In response, Skorzeny pulled a flash grenade off his bandoleer and threw it hard down into the detainee section.

As soon as the grenade exploded, Skorzeny jumped down into the room, his rifle blazing as he hit the floor hard. One by one his men followed suit as bursts of fire erupted from down the holding cell corridor. Four security personal armed with pistols were taking shots at them. Skorzeny and the team raised their rifles and put overwhelming rifle fire on the coverless security personal.

As more quarian security personal attacked from behind them, the rear guard engaged them. They hit the defenders with rifles and grenades until their resistance was suppressed or collapsed.

Skorzeny did not join in. Instead he was focused on the cells. Not sure which one exactly held the Führer. He paused as he stepped over one of the quarian dead. He looked at the door panels, which appeared to be some sort of biometric security as Dalad warned might be the case. Skorzeny reached down and lifted the dead quarian's arm up and pressed its palm into the pad. The pad chimed and the door opened up, revealing… nothing.

Huffing slightly, Skorzeny dragged the corpse from door panel to door panel until he reached the last one. With deduction on his side, Skorzeny pulled off his helmet and took a deep breath. The rifle fire died down and the sound of boots running towards him did not make him turn his head.

This was it. It was his moment of glory.

Skorzeny activated the door panel and dropped the corpse's hand. He swept his sweaty, messy hair back and forced a boyish grin onto his face. He might have been a commando, but he was also a man who knew about making a good impression. Public image was a valuable thing to have.

His eyes were held on the Führer with a slight horror The Führer was on the ground, lying flat on his stomach. His hands and feet were bound together like his was a hog or cattle. An improvised gag was shoved in his mouth. His eyes were bruised and his nose bleeding. It was pure barbarism on the part of the aliens. Not even at the worst moments had Dalad'Voar been treated this terribly…

As he held his helmet under his arm and dropped the arm of the quarian boy he was lugging around, he took a step into the cell.

"My Führer, you are free!" Skorzeny proclaimed dramatically. "I have come to save you-"

That was when he saw it. To the side were the Goebbels children and Magda; Magda, who was looking not at him but next to him instead. Just in the corner of his eye. A quarian, who was small and pressed tightly against the wall opposite to the Führer, with a pistol pointed right at him.

A sudden hot explosion, then utter pain shot through his face. Otto reeled back and threw out his arm, colliding and managing to disarm and then throw the offender out of her position and amongst his commando team. The quarian collapsed for a moment as Skorzeny paused to realize just how close to death he had come. Thankfully whoever the shooter was, couldn't hit a target only mere centimetres away.

Turning to face the offender; He paused and narrowed his eyes as a cold realization swept over him. He knew who had done this. It was her. It was the quarian Joachim Hoch was screwing. It was the same quarian who had ruined the Reich through her incompetence. Now there she stood right in front of him, a smug smile on her face as she breathed heavily.

Brushing off the medic now trying to stop the bleeding from his forehead, Skorzeny could only see nothing but seething hatred for the woman.

" _ **You bitch**_ **!"** he shrieked at her, pulling his hand away from is hanging flesh. _"You little miserable, fucking_ _ **BITCH!"**_

With all his might as he ignored the blood flowing off his face, Otto punched the woman hard in her chest. He could hear and feel a crack underneath her muscle. The woman staggered back and started to collapse.

Wiping the blood out of his eyes, he reached low, grabbed her leg and pulled the woman off the ground. With all his might, he slammed her body hard into the wall like a baton against a person. She cried out as Skorzeny dropped her hard and stepped back in a stagger as he pressed his hand against his gushing forehead.

There was a low chuckle that emitted from the woman who shot him in the face. She was strangely amused despite being in serious pain from the retaliation offered by Skorzeny.

As Hanala pulled herself up to her feet, the gathering of commandos moved in to suppress her. Skorzeny let out a barking dismissal.

"Stay back," Skorzeny ordered as he pulled his hand off his head. "She's been itching for this beating for quite some time now."

Under most circumstances Otto would never do this, beat a woman like this. But this _thing_ was hardly a woman. She had tits and no dick, but she was a vile representation to her gender. She believed she somehow had a chance against him and because of this, she needed to be humiliated. She needed a reminder like Zorah, that behind her technology, she was as weak and helpless –more so as a woman half his height and easily three times her size.

Staggering slightly, Hanala lunged at him with a renewed desire to fight. Her fists swinging out, both times Skorzeny managed to react fast enough to dodge them. He lashed out, handing a backhand that exploded blood out of her now busted nasal cavity. She hit the wall and, ignoring the wound she received, launched herself right back into the fight. She threw all her weight at Skorzeny, who caught her and slammed her hard into the ground. About to hit her while she was down, she surprised him with a punch in the side. Her slender curved legs dug into the walkway and explosively propelled her out of his reach as she rolled backwards and stood up.

Without warning the quarian suddenly let loose a wild shriek, as if in some sort of a blood haze. She must have been in some sort of adrenaline overload as she launched herself against him again; she managed to duck and dodge his fists as she caught him twice in the ribs and jumped up and elbowed him in the mouth.

He did not have time to recover as the woman kneed him hard in the groin. As he recoiled and moaned from the dirty hit, the quarian lunged on top of him like a wild animal. Her teeth wrapped around the side of his neck as she gnashed and gnashed until she was drawing blood from him.

She attacked again, her tiny fists delivering blow after blow against the larger man. Her mouth was drooling blood and saliva as she glared at him with an amount of violence Skorzeny never before saw in a woman. Blow after blow she hit the man in the face and chest.

Without warning Otto reached out from under her, catching one fist in his vice grip, then the second. Hanala's eyes widened, her human and quarian blood stained mouth opened wide in a suddenly realization of just how fucked she was. Without warning, Skorzeny pulled her straight down and smashed his forehead right into hers. His right leg jerking up at the same time as it hit her hard in her crotch.

Apparently only now realizing how much pain was caused by kicking sex organs, Hanala cried out and rolled off the Austrian, who staggered back to his feet, heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. Skorzeny ignored the encroaching gunfire. He didn't take pleasure in beating a woman, but this freak of an alien could be made an exception in this case. He snapped his foot out, kicking Hanala hard in the side. She yelped and yelped again as Skorzeny repeated the process.

Not done with her, he reached down and picked her up by her hair with his left hand. As soon as she was on her knees, Skorzeny's right fist punched her hard in the eye, and then in the other eye. He swooped down as he hit her as hard as he could in her her stomach and pushed her back on the ground.

Skorzeny stepped back as he stared down on the bleeding and bruising quarian woman sprawled on the ground, heaving heavily. Skorzeny turned back and found his team, the Führer and the Goebbels family watching in silent shock. Wiping the blood off his nose he turned back and dropped on top of her, now finally incapacitated. His hand reached into his armour pocket to produce hand-cuffs.

For a ninety pound woman, she certainly had surprised hi-

Pain suddenly shot through his shoulder, making the Austrian roar and turn his head back. Hanala had plunged a knife through the armour he wore. It likely took most of the force, but the blade still managed to pierce through flesh. Hanala's eyes opened widened as she snarled and shrieked like an animal. Her bloodied dagger like teeth were revealed once again as snapped her head up and bit once again into Skorzeny flesh.

Wrenching her mouth off him once again, Skorzeny slammed his fist over and over into the apparently indestructible quarian until she finally collapsed, stunned. Pressing his new advantage and ignoring the utter agony he was in, Skorzeny wrapped his hands tight around the bitch's throat. He relished in her choking, knowing now there was nothing left she could do but shake underneath him. As she went limp, he slowly relieved his pressure. He needed her alive.

"I should do everyone a favour and _kill_ you," Skorzeny coughed out as he pulled back, his hand pressing against his torn open neck.

Wheezing, Hanala rolled onto her back and pushed herself with her legs towards the sound of screaming. Pushing through the commando team, a small quarian child with tears streaming down her face dropped down and collapsed over the bruised, bloodied and broken Hanala. Hanala grunted under the small weight. Somehow she found the energy to touch the child's cheek.

The child pulled back slightly and wiped her eyes. She turned back and all of a sudden a surge in hatred flowed through the child as she stood over the woman.

"LEAVE MY AUNTIE ALONE, YOU MEAN BASTARD!" she screamed at the bleeding Skorzeny.

Skorzeny recoiled slightly and chuckled at the usage of a vulgar word. The smile slowly died off his face however as he came to a sudden realization.

This was Hanala's niece… The niece she was raising as her own… The niece who was orphaned during the attack on the quarian research base…. The research base he attacked and personally killed the head of its security… Hanala's brother, the child's father…

"You're going to be in trouble," the child snapped back. "Joachim's going to find out and he's bigger and scarier and meaner then you are and gets madder even faster than Auntie Hanala and he's going to kill you for hurting Auntie Hana! And you will deserve it!"

Skorzeny answer the child with a cuff across her mouth. The child yelped and fell to the ground, the act made Hanala struggle against her captors; her weak cries of protests fell unacknowledged by the human.

Hoch, he should have expected the child was being influenced by the likes of that bastard. As much as he wanted to harm Hanala, Skorzeny groaned as he tucked his pistol back into his belt. Hanala'Jarva was an Admiral, and most importantly, an Admiral with whose father was also on the Admiralty leadership. Taking both the daughter and granddaughter of Admiral Alaan'Jarva was the right move to make.

"What are you waiting for, Herr Skorzeny?" the Führer called from behind the Commando team "Move the child out of the way and kill her."

Skorzeny stiffened up and turned around to find the Führer watching the scene, his arms folded, his mouth frowning as he glared on the fallen quarian. While Skorzeny was never one to refuse a direct order from Führer, the Führer did not know the extent of the situation.

"My Führer, the quarians would like nothing more than us to make our escape. They will shoot down before we make it past the Moon. It justifies your death in their custody," Skorzeny countered with as much respect as he could summon through his personal physical agony. "With these two in our possession, we will guarantee our safe transit. They are children of their lead Admiral."

Unblinking as he looked from Hanala's broken form and the stern, hateful expression of the child, the Führer turned back to Skorzeny.

"Kill the woman and take the child with us," the Führer ordered instead, his tone shaking with repressed anger. "If the creature's leadership will not sacrifice either of their lives; then we only need one of them. Execute the woman."

Behind the Führer, the child exploded into tears once again. She collapsed and hugged her aunt. Hanala did not speak. She remained silent as he maintained her dulled bright eyes on Skorzeny. Both of them silently knew that the Führer's logic was sound. Skorzeny had all the reasons and motivation in the world to simply shoot her dead and move on.

Biting his lip, Skorzeny turned back to his Führer, the Führer looked on Skorzeny expectantly. Knowing that the move would likely further discredit him, Skorzeny shook his head and stepped in between Hanala, the child and the Führer. In that moment, Skorzeny knew his career in the Waffen-SS was now officially over. He would have to run as soon as the Führer was safe.

"No, my Führer, this is my operation, and as such I hesitate to inform you that you are not in a position to give orders," Skorzeny replied, keeping his tone respectful. "I will be bringing the Jarva woman with us, and you will not interfere with it."

Maintaining his soul piercing, hypnotic blue eyes over Skorzeny, the Führer scowled and turned away from Hanala and the child. Nodding to the Führer, Skorzeny's Commando team went to work fitting him with the armour they brought along.

As they did, Magda appeared out of the cell. She gave a sideway glance down on Hanala and winced sympathetically. She turned away and approached the Führer. She collapsed onto her knees a slid to him. Her hands reached out and grabbed him by his legs. A gargled gasp caught Skorzeny's attention. He looked back at Hanala, she looked fundamentally betrayed. The pain of what was unfolding was harming her more than Skorzeny could have ever done

"My Führer," she spoke breathlessly. "Shall I be returning with you? Nothing would bring me greater honour than to serve at your side once again."

The Führer looked on Magda for a moment. He reached out and offered her his hand. Magda's mouth broke into a wide smile as she took it and stood up. Slowly the Führer touched her cheek.

"No," he refused plainly. "You are a traitor… _Magda…_ and enemy of the Reich for assisting this creature in attempting to break me. Only by the fond memories of Joseph and your children keep me from ordering your immediate execution. You will stay here with the creatures you _love_."

Leaving Magda utterly devastated, the Führer allowed the commando cladding him in armour pull the helmet over his head. With him ready to move, the Commandos surrounded him and made their way to the exit. Magda collapsed back onto her knees, her hand shaking as she breathed raggedly.

Looking at the mother and her six children for a moment, Skorzeny bent over and without warning lifted Hanala up, cradling the woman in his arms easily. He turned back to Magda and cleared his throat.

"I will take your two youngest children back to Earth and release them in Hanala's company," Skorzeny addressed the mother. "In exchange you will go to the ship's bridge and tell their leadership that I want to meet with Alaan'Jarva with regards to his children. Understood?"

Magda's wide eyed looked from her children and then back to Skorzeny. Slowly she nodded and stood up, her hands wringing together.

"Hedda, Heide... you will go with this nice man."

As the two children nervously stepped forward and joined Skorzeny, Hanala and the child quarian, Skorzeny watched in slight wonder as the two Goebbels girls took each of the quarian child's hands. He turned back and found Magda staring at the ground. Hanala managed to turn her head to one side in order to look at her apparent friend.

"I-I thought… I thought I would have been stronger…" Magda spoke to her. "I am so sorry, Hanala…"

Hanala mouth struggled to smile. Her blood stained teeth nearly made Magda cry out.

 _"We all slip up, Magda,"_ Hanala managed to slur out, her mouth forming a painful smile. _"J-Joachim and I will take care of Hedda and Heide until you're released."_

Unable to believe that he witnessed an act of forgiveness from the alien, Otto shook the uneasy feeling that quarians might have been more like humans than he wanted to believe. Suppressing his thoughts, he instead focused on the next step of the plan as he carried the woman and led the children towards the commandos waiting for him.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you? Changing the way someone else fundamentally thinks…" Skorzeny inquired. There was no malice or taunting in his tone. It was a genuine curiosity.

Against his bicep, Hanala's bloodied head weakly nodded.

"I know… but people can change… and you can too," Hanala replied. "Y-you have the capacity to be something better than this..."

Skorzeny did his best to ignore the statement that now infected his resolve.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The guards let him by without any hassle and radioed into Himmler of the new arrival. One wore a knowing smile as they allowed Fegelein and Kürtz by first.

It was hard to believe how fast and easy loyalties could be shattered. None of these men protecting the most important National Socialist in the Reich were coerced into the act. All it took was a handful of currency and a promise of more if they stayed loyal. In the end Kaltenbrunner had proven to Fegelein that National Socialism was just as corrupt as any other system. Perhaps it was better that it died.

Kaltenbrunner spent much of the car ride to Krakow explaining to him the extent of the quarian manipulation. They put the Jewish International Conspiracy to shame. The Jews wanted the goyim under their thumb as well the economy and banks in their control. The quarians wanted to take humans by the millions and send them to war to reclaim a home world billions upon billions of miles away. With any luck, the quarians would tell the Jews to leave Germanic people alone.

Worst yet there was simply no way to stop the quarian menace that would conquer humanity, not through bombs and guns but through smiles and handshakes. They wanted German blood to fuel the war machine and they would get it by any means necessary, even if it meant collapsing the National Socialists and the noble goal of the eradication of the Jew off the face of Europe by any means possible; whether through deportation or by…. well… _deportation_ …

The doors opened and there stood the Reichsführer waiting for him. Himmler wore a smile and did not notice Kaltenbrunner on the left armed with a tire iron and Müller on the right with his pistol drawn, both of them pressed up against the barrack, moving slowly to intercept him. To keep him distracted, Fegelein raised his arms out and forced a bright, inviting grin for him.

"Herr Reichsführer, I achieved my directive as you ordered!" he addressed Himmler. "The quarians will be soon dying in droves with any luck!"

Himmler broke his frown and smiled kindly at the enthusiasm faked by Fegelein. He took a step forward and met Fegelein. Heinrich's hands reached out and took Hermann's shaking them firmly. As Himmler laughed happily, he let go

"Very good work, Oberführer, I'm happy you made it back, and most importantly the operation is underway," Himmler returned. "I trust that the journey was saf-"

Without another second spared for luring the man into a comfortable state, Kaltenbrunner rounded the corner as fast as he could. His tire iron struck the Reichsführer in the stomach. Himmler collapsed with a gasp. Fegelein and Müller drew his pistols and shot the three guards until they stopped moving.

As soon as the guards were silenced, Kaltenbrunner grabbed the collapsed by his jacket. He turned back to Fegelein as Kürtz men pushed into the barrack, their weapons drawn as they hunted for anymore of Himmler's staff who might have still occupied the barrack.

"Keep his mouth from closing," he directed to the Oberführer. "The last thing we need is him potentially cracking an enamelled coated cyanide tablet."

Fegelein obeyed, of course he did. There was nothing he could do. It was better Himmler than him in the end. So Hermann bent over and wedged his closed fist into Himmler's mouth and trailed Kaltenbrunner as he dragged the Reichsführer further into the building…towards the sounds of screaming muffled between walls. Fegelein felt his stomach lurch.

Reaching the source of the panicked screaming, Kaltenbrunner kicked in the door and dragged Himmler into what appeared to be an improvised living area for the barrack. As soon as Himmler was lying in the centre of the room, Ernst stood up and brushed off his hands on his trousers. He appeared disgusted to have touched his former boss.

"Hold him down, Fegelein," Kaltenbrunner spoke as he stood up. "Check for recent fillings, Müller. Pull them all out."

Naturally Fegelein obeyed Kaltenbrunner, he held the Reichsführer against the floor and watched grimly as Heinrich Müller slipped pliers out of his jacket and went to work, carefully inspecting each tooth in Himmler's mouth from easily cracked enamel coating that might hide a cyanide tablet for him to consume. Kaltenbrunner wasn't watching. He wasn't even in the room. It did not take a genius to know where he went as the females screams and a shout grew exponentially.

Sighing heavily, the Gestapo chief turned away from the Reichsführer and looked at the Oberführer.

"I'm not seeing any. The poor fool thought there was some time left before this happened," Heinrich spoke as he pulled back. "Good work, Hermann. You're one step closer to living through this."

As Heinrich released Himmler's mouth and slapped Fegelein on the shoulder, a door kicked open, catching Himmler, Fegelein and Müller's was Kaltenbrunner, who was back in the same room as they were. He was dragging a teenaged boy and girl by their hair as an older woman followed behind them screaming and sobbing. Throwing the two teens to the ground, Kaltenbrunner stepped over them and knelt down in front of the heaving Reichsführer.

The teen girl attempted to move to her father, but Müller pushed her back so hard that she collapsed on the ground at her brother's feet.

You've been a very bad boy, Hinnie," Ernst taunted his former boss. "You made a very terrible mistake. You didn't kill me when you had the chance."

The girl stood back up, her eyes wide and watery as he looked on her restrained father helplessly.

"No!" she cried out in almost a weep. "No let him go! He's done nothing wrong!"

Ernst turned back to look at the girl, a curious smile crossing his mouth.

"The lovely Margarete and fair Gudrun… the apples of Heinrich's eye," Kaltenbrunner spoke as he stood back up. He looked to the boy, adding. "Gerhard von Ahe… the strong little orphan you took in. Tragic what happened to your Father. You chose the wrong family to get involved with, boy."

The boy remained stern faced, his eyes glared hatefully at Kaltenbrunner. Chuckling, Ernst turned away and focused his attention on the slumped over and sobbing Gudrun. Her face was buried in her hands as Kaltenbrunner bent over her. His pistol was still drawn as he looked to Himmler once again. His free hand pushed through Gudrun's blonde locks in a way a Father would do to comfort his own child.

"Oh, she's a pretty thing, isn't she?" he breathed gently, the P38 pistol barrel stroking the shivering girl's cheek. "Hard to believe she had a chance to be a pretty little maiden with a Father and Mother who looked like…. _well_ … like you both, really."

The girl cried out as Kaltenbrunner pulled the sidearm off her skin. Fegelein lowered his head whatever was happening here was so very wrong…

"Your torment is with me, Kaltenbrunner," Himmler managed to get out, finally able to catch his breath after the surprise blow. "Leave my children out of this... I beg you."

Himmler's reaction only served to aid the head of the RSHA in smiling even wider.

" _You beg_?" Kaltenbrunner repeated. "Oh, but I'm not just here to capture you, Himmler. I'm here to _break_ you."

Himmler struggled against Fegelein, who held him down until Kaltenbrunner gave him a stern glare. Taking it as an affirmative for Himmler to have some space, Fegelein let his arms drop and he stepped back, allowing the battered up Reichsführer to stand on his feet like a man.

 _"Kaltenbrunner… Ernst, why are you doing this?"_ Himmler's wife Margarete begged as she clutched onto their daughter Gudrun. "Your wife and I are friends… before this Elisabeth and I were so close…"

Kaltenbrunner quizzical stare at his former boss softened as he turned back to face the shrewd looking Margarete Himmler.

Margarete Himmler was very much a low key, plain looking Magda Goebbels despite her being blonde haired and blue eyed beauty that Himmler genuinely adored. With a husband in control of the SS, certain responsibilities fell into her lap, one of which was organizing social events for the wives of high ranking SS men. Unlike Magda, she was unable to be the centre of attention. Ultimately it was Lina Heydrich who led the wives against her; the two of them apparently shared an intense hatred for each other. Lina, her genuine belief in her husband's ability and knowing that Heydrich was being held back by Himmler, for Margarete, it was likely Himmler who told her all the ways that Heydrich constantly attempted to circumvent his authority.

Another difference between Frau Goebbels and Himmler was that Magda was capable of speaking her mind. She did not fear the wrath of her husband or Hitler when she occasionally let slip of how she really felt about things such as the war and the Führer's policies; Hitler, who loved Magda like a sister and Goebbels, who was frightened if Magda ever revealed out any more of his affairs to Hitler. Margarete, on the other hand, was just a humourless conduit to Himmler. This only further served to drive the SS wives into the arms of the much more warm and open Lina Heydrich.

But despite this there was more to her. While on the surface the frumpy, humourless, woman who appeared to be submissive for Himmler, she was rather… liberated for a woman. She was quite despairingly referred to as the husband in the relationship. This was due to her being seven years older and constantly henpecking him at home. She was also a volunteer to the Red Cross as the war started, supervising hospitals in Berlin-Brandenburg and even going to the front line… so yes, there were some unfortunate redeeming traits that made this a little harder.

Only a little harder, however…

"And because of that I am willing to give you an explanation. You see your lovely dear husband has went ahead and done a foolish thing," Kaltenbrunner decided to explain. "Oh, he and the three of you will not view it as foolish, but I can assure you it was very foolish and will lead to catastrophic consequences if I don't cushion this with Heinrich."

Kaltenbrunner, whose 6'7 frame dwarfed Himmler, stepped back to him and grabbed the Reichsführer by the shoulder. He dragged the man and pushed to be with his wife and children. Immediately the doting husband and father reached out and pulled his wife and children into his arms. Ernst, in a rare moment of tact, remained silent and allowed him that brief moment with them.

"Would you care to explain what you have done to warrant my attention?" Kaltenbrunner called out from just behind Himmler and his family. "Be brave for once in your miserably dull existence and tell them. _Why_ am I here?"

Pulling his head back slightly, Himmler looked on his wife in her eyes.

 _"Because… because Kaltenbrunner does not wish for the Führer freedom. I have ordered his liberation. It's occurring right now,"_ Himmler finally wheezed out. _"Kaltenbrunner… Kaltenbrunner believes that National Socialism is over. It has been over the moment the Wehrmacht captured the Führer. "_

It was not a whole truth. He made no mention of the aliens; still it was satisfying to Ernst that Himmler was muttering the truth to his family. Kaltenbrunner did not reply. He instead tucked his pistol away and marched up to the closed door to the hallway. He opened the door and snapped his fingers together. He turned back to the gather and joined them once again.

"I brought you a special treat; sort of a going away present, really," Kaltenbrunner spoke as he stood only a foot away from the rasping Reichsführer. "You know that the moment I load you into my car trunk, you will never taste freedom ever again, right? You know that the Wehrmacht, the Aliens and the Jews will exact a terrible vengeance on you; and it's going to be _hilarious_ tripping over other to get you."

The door opened once again, in shoved was a young blonde woman. He eyes wide and fearful as she clutched onto the hand of a young boy, not more than a year and a half old. The older children stared in shock at their arrival, Margarete closed her eyes and Himmler struggled even harder to break out of his restraint.

"It was sort of a last minute thing," Kaltenbrunner commented idly as he escorted the woman to join the Himmler family. "I made a phone call and had a couple friends make a little stop on the way here. I figured what the hell; a little family reunion was in order. Gudrun, this is your half-brother, Heige and his Mother, Hedwig Potthast. It seemed that your Father wasn't quite a man of pure virtues as he led you to believe."

It all had become clear now to Fegelein just how dead the marriage between Himmler and Margarete really was. It was held together only by their desire not to hurt Gudrun with a disintegration of their marriage. Margarete held her eyes low as Hedwig, Himmler's secretary before the Civil War stood next to her.

Patting Hedwig's cheek, Ernst turned back to Himmler and stood right in front of the bespectacled man.

"You didn't actually think that only Heydrich was watching you, did you?" he asked plainly.

Looking to Müller and gesturing to Himmler, Kaltenbrunner remained silent as he listened to the shouts of protest from Himmler as Müller dragged the Reichsführer away from his two families. Slowly, Ernst stepped in front of Himmler, his large frame blocking Himmler's line of sight. He reached out, grabbing Himmler's chin in order to keep his head in place.

"You threatened my friend, Skorzeny," Ernst pressed on, as Müller held onto the Reichsführer tightly. "You made him delivery deadly nerve toxins to the fleet in order to send a message to the Loyalists' benefactors - which I applaud the move, by the way, those quarian bastards deserve to cough out their lungs - but I know Skorzeny, I know that he doesn't take interference in his operations lightly, which means you've threatened his family in order to get him to do it."

Himmler appeared physically ill as the crying of his infant son broke through the heavy conversation. Kaltenbrunner remained absolutely unmoved as the young mother tried to sooth the child.

"I ordered the poison gas be taken to the fleet, but I did not threaten Skorzeny," Himmler retorted with as much force as he could possibly produce. "He's no threat to me. He's a glorified soldier that _you_ propped up into something larger than life…. your little link to the ear of the Führer."

Kaltenbrunner chuckled once again mirthlessly.

"Maybe so, but you certainly did threaten him!" Kaltenbrunner exclaimed jovially. He turned back to face Hermann. "You see your loyal, faithful, Fegelein has laid the blame on your feet. If Fegelein is lying, then I get to shoot the little fucker dead, and nothing would give me a greater satisfaction than watching the little cretin try to push his entrails back into his chest; right Fegelein?"

Fegelein remained shamefully silent as Himmler looked at him with wide, accusing eyes. Slowly, he nodded.

"Yes, Herr Kaltenbrunner," Fegelein spoke as he held his eyes on the ground. "Himmler wants Skorzeny dead."

Kaltenbrunner's menacing grin redirected back to Himmler.

"The way I see it, Skorzeny is delivering the poison gas and now I need you alive to direct the attention of the quarians from him should his raid be successful. If they capture him, then I have a prisoner to exchange," Kaltenbrunner continued. "If -god forbid- they kill him, I exchange you again, only this time the quarians have to work with me in order to end Heydrich. They still think Heydrich is dying. Not when I tell them the lunatic had his cybernetic rejecting lung removed and plans on forming a post-Hitler vengeance group. If Skorzeny rejects using the poison, Skorzeny and I work out a deal to get Heydrich, and you are the bartering chip for safe passage out of Europe."

Fegelein watched as whatever colour in Himmler's face drained as he realized what Kaltenbrunner had just managed to pull off: an inescapable means of cheating trial and death… at least for the time being.

"Three separate scenarios and I win every time!" Ernst exclaimed, rather pleased with himself. "Christ, you would not believe the amount of work I put into my survival. The best part is that, I really owe it all to Heydrich and you. You both make me look like a saint in comparison!"

Kaltenbrunner howled out into a wild laughter. It was an odd thing to witness that for the most part, the Austrian was a humourless bastard; at least from what Fegelein witnessed before this debacle. As the laughter died down, the smile remained firmly in place.

"I know it seems a little foolish saying all this out loud, and believe me when I say that I usually never do this. However I see no threat. In your case, you have painted yourself into a corner, whereas I am an asset," Kaltenbrunner continued on. "No matter what you tell them, it will be my word against theirs. And since if these men want to escape the hangman noose for what they did, they know better than to corroborate anything you say, right?"

Müller nodded immediately. Remembering what he did in the swamps of Pripyat, Fegelein was inclined to nod as well. Truly Kaltenbrunner had become all of their masters in one way or another. Without him working in the background all of them would be caught and trialled before they had a chance to react.

Turning away from Müller and Fegelein, Kaltenbrunner stood straight as he dropped his smile and looked on Himmler with a renewed seriousness.

Slowly, Kaltenbrunner added. "This leads me to one other loose end."

Before anyone could react, Kaltenbrunner pulled his pistol from out of his holster and a loud, ringing shot echoed throughout the hall. The bullet ripped rip through Margarete Himmler's skull.

The dead woman collapsed, her body flopped sporadically as Gudrun and Gerhard screamed. Himmler screamed as well, he even attempted to charge at the head of the RSHA, however he was easily held back by Müller. Kaltenbrunner did not react. He ignored the screams, and ignored Himmler's wife's blood as it pooled around his boots. All Kaltenbrunner did was hold his stare on Himmler as he wept openly, his face buried into his lap. There was no satisfaction in Kaltenbrunner as he had mocked earlier, just a strange stillness in him.

"I can't have family members hunting me down for doing this, or worse, testify in open court in your favour," Kaltenbrunner mused over the sobbing. "It would be… embarrassing if what I told you got out."

The pistol rang out again. This time it was Gerhard's young life was ended. Like his adopted Mother, he too collapsed. No graceful fall. It was just as though someone cut a puppet's strings.

"I take no pleasure in any of this, I assure you," Kaltenbrunner assured the sobbing Reichsführer. "This is strictly a preventative action of sorts. You can tell the quarians if you like, but I assure you I will not face a trial for it. They will likely find no sympathy to spare you."

Once again Kaltenbrunner raised his weapon and turned his pistol onto Hedwig, who clutched her child, sobbing and whispering to her son for the last time. Fegelein turned away as Ernst shot twice. Once again Himmler's sobbing exploded. Once again he attempted to move over to the fallen. This time, however, Kaltenbrunner looked up the Müller and nodded. Müller let go of Himmler and Kaltenbrunner moved out of the way to allow the Reichsführer enough leeway to mourn for his wife, his mistress and his bastard son.

As Kaltenbrunner looked Fegelein's way, Fegelein lowered his head. He did not want to be deemed hostile and therefore give Ernst a reason to execute him as well. Instead he stayed silent and watched as Kaltenbrunner turned his back and leant over behind Himmler as he held his wife tightly in his arms, his face buried into her hair.

" _You cry?_ " Kaltenbrunner spoke disbelievingly, for the first time since the executions started, his emotions shone out. "Your orders have killed hundreds of thousands of children and hundreds of thousands of mothers in a manner not dissimilar to this, and yet you cry when the slaughter turns its focus onto _you_?"

 _ **"YOU'VE DONE EVERYTHING THAT I'VE DONE!"**_ Himmler screamed at his former underling. _**"YOU'VE KILLED MORE UNDESIRABLES THAN HEYDRICH DID AS WHEN HE HELD YOUR POSITION!"**_

Kaltenbrunner did not smile, nor did he even attempt to deny what Himmler had screeched at the top of his lungs. All he did was nod. There was zero trace of shame in him.

"You and Heydrich… you both wanted to be the face of the slaughter, you purposefully went for the infamous public image in order to generate fear and respect," Kaltenbrunner explained to the weeping Himmler. "Me? I worked in the background; I was treated like shit by the both of you. It was you who put me in the RSHA position, because you thought me a stupid brute. But now look at us. I could wipe out half the Jews of Europe and I bet Jews will give me a medal for hauling you in, and you will get to hang for my crimes! Because they don't know me, and as far as they know, I'm just a clog in your machine compared to you."

Falling silent, Kaltenbrunner stepped back and stood behind Gudrun. His pistol barrel pressed right against the top of the girl's head. Kaltenbrunner held his eyes on Himmler as he renewed his struggle against the larger framed Müller. Müller, who was cold as ice was looking at Kaltenbrunner with a strange regret. It did not take a genius to see how wrong this was when, even Heinrich Müller, who ordered the tortures, imprisonment and executions of thousands found himself conflicted by Kaltenbrunner's overwhelming lack of empathy. However, Müller did not make a noise. Like Fegelein, he knew that this was Kaltenbrunner's show.

"Anything you want to say to Gudrun?" Kaltenbrunner inquired, as the girl shook and sobbed underneath him. "Go on; tell her that everything is going to be fine... Lie to her."

Gudrun looked up and stared at her father right in the eyes.

 _"Papa, why is this happening…"_ she softly asked. Her expression was utterly devastated. The words put a lump in Fegelein's throat.

 _"Püppi, my love,"_ Himmler stuttered, his voice struggling to be positive, reassuring to his child in the face of her impending death. _"I'm so sorry I-I-"_

The final shot exploded out, and the girl was dead in moments. They watched as Himmler emitted a blood curdling scream as wrenched himself out of Müller's grip and launched himself onto his daughter. Kaltenbrunner stepped back, holstering his pistol, and stepping over the bodies, moved to join the utterly stunned Chief of the Gestapo and Fegelein.

Together the three of them watched in silent as the Reichsführer sobbed for his two families. It was a strange sight to behold. Himmler set up an image of ruthless steel. To see him broken so thoroughly by Kaltenbrunner was a terrifying sight to bear witness. Not even Himmler deserved this happening to him…

"You really should have stayed with the agriculture trade," Müller suddenly spoke up.

The statement caught Himmler's attention. He turned his head around and looked at Kaltenbrunner with an expression of devastation, like his daughter had worn only moments prior.

 _"Kill me, please,"_ Himmler wept. _"Please Ernst, just kill me and get it over with..."_

Kaltenbrunner held his hard eyes on Himmler. Slowly, unblinkingly, the monster who had shattered the Himmler family shook his head.

"Oh no, your punishment will be more severe," Kaltenbrunner returned as he crossed his arms together. "You will be placed into the hands of your enemies, and they will draw your death out for as long as they can. They will link you to every foul deed that occurred in this war… regardless if you did them or not."

The door behind them opened up. It was Hauptsturmführer Kürtz with three of his men. All of them looked shocked at the line of executions and the Reichsführer sitting there amongst the corpses of his family. Inhaling sharply, Kürtz clicked his heels together and turned to face Ernst Kaltenbrunner.

"Herr Kaltenbrunner, shall we escort him out of here and bury the bodies?" Kürtz inquired, looking at the mess. The Hauptsturmführer did his best to not appear outwardly disgusted.

Kaltenbrunner shook his head.

"No, first have your men prepared to torch this place and leave them here," Kaltenbrunner returned as he holstered his pistol. "I want you to direct me to Himmler's study."

The Hauptsturmführer inclined his head. Without another word to Fegelein, Muller or Himmler, Kaltenbrunner followed the man. Around them the squad ignored the scene and sobbing as they begun smashing the wood panelling off the side of the walls to use as kindling. They could not simply spare any of their gasoline. Fegelein gazed on Himmler. Himmler had rolled up into a ball as he stared at his dead family.

It wasn't long before a sudden laughter erupted from Himmler's study. Kaltenbrunner returned, smiling as he clutched what appeared to be a piece of paper. He stopped right in front of Himmler, one of Ernst's hands reached out and patted the deadened Himmler's head like a submissive animal.

"If there is one thing I love about you, it's how meticulous you are with _paperwork_!" Kaltenbrunner exclaimed his warm compliment. "Why do you even bother try to lie to me when you have this _compulsion_ to write everything out in triplicate?"

Kaltenbrunner cleared his throat dramatically.

 _"Heydrich, you are to temporarily suspend your anti-resistance duties in Berlin and direct your focus to the Skorzeny family, located in Küstrin. Although a useful asset, Otto Skorzeny's faith is in doubt," Kaltenbrunner read aloud. "The disposal of wife Emmi and daughter Waltraut has become an unavoidable chore. Make haste to Küstrin and dispose of them. Frame it as an action of one of three parties: The rebels, the quarians, or traitor and Enemy of the State Ernst Kaltenbrunner…"_

Kaltenbrunner glanced to Himmler, his glee barely concealed.

 _"Signed, an idiot whose family was killed and will spend the rest of his life rotting in a jail cell God knows where until they hang him in front of the entire world..."_ Kaltenbrunner finished.

Folding the teletype directive and placing it in his jacket pocket. Kaltenbrunner gestured to Kürtz, who nodded and stepped towards Himmler, pulling the now former Reichsführer to his feet, hold his hands tightly against his back. As Kürtz begun dragging Himmler away, Kaltenbrunner reached out and held onto Himmler's forearm.

"My thanks for your assistance, Himmler, truly," Kaltenbrunner spoke to his former boss. "It's been a real _pleasure_ serving with you."

The dead eyed, near catatonic man did not reply to Kaltenbrunner's final taunt. Kaltenbrunner let go and watched as the man was dragged out of the room. Smoke was on the air, the fires were lit up and burning slowly. As the soldiers left the room, Kaltenbrunner turned to Müller. For the first time, Kaltenbrunner appeared nervous, almost agitated as he reached for his cigarettes.

"This is where we part, friend. Take Fegelein and Himmler west and meet us outside of Kiel. We need Wehrmacht assets to get anywhere near Reinhard, and I know just the son of bitch who has a Panzergrenadier regiment and a personal vendetta against Heydrich," Ernst spoke as he inhaled his cigarette. "I will collect Skorzeny's family for extraction and meet you there. Emmi is a good woman. She and the child do not deserve an ending at the hands of Heydrich."

Clasping Müller on the shoulder, Kaltenbrunner left Müller and Fegelein's company quickly. Like a split personality, Kaltenbrunner had a family to save in the wake of murdering the Himmler family.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

 **Changes: Clean Up, deleted a lot of edgy combat dialog.**


	19. The Arrival

**Chapter Nineteen: The Arrival**

 **…**

It was nearing midnight when Ernst Kaltenbrunner pulled his car into the grounds of the Skorzeny home. Located on the outskirts of Küstrin, it was a quiet location for Skorzeny to hide his family away in case something terrible happened.

Unfortunately, Skorzeny was not a man known for his guile. Sure he could raid and engage in irregular, unconventional warfare, but it was a whole different matter when it came to securing those he cared for. The threat of his family's death would have been totally averted had Otto involved Kaltenbrunner in the matter. Ernst knew in his heart that he could have convinced Otto at least partially to see the error in his thought process.

Skorzeny's loyalty to Hitler was his greatest flaw, and it would be unlikely to convince the commando to back off from his assignment, but at the very least Ernst would have had a chance to keep the two Skorzeny's safely out of the crumbling Reich until Otto finally came to his senses. Until he saw the Reich for what it really was –ashes- he would never change. Not until Hitler was dead could he abandon his oath. That was Skorzeny: blindly loyal. It was quite an admirable trait if his loyalty was directed to someone who had a future… but for now...

Collecting his briefcase, Ernst pulled himself out of the car and made his way up the stone walkway towards the door. He needed to calm down, needed to stop darting his eyes to the side as though Himmler and Heydrich's agents were watching him. He needed Emmi and by extension Waltraut relaxed in order to make the evacuation as smooth as possible.

As he reached the first steps to the house, the door was yanked open and out came Emmi Skorzeny, clutching what appeared to be a double barrelled hunting shotgun that her husband likely taught her to use. It was confirmed by her nearly professional stance, shotgun stock against her shoulder and her hands steady as she stared at Kaltenbrunner down the line of sights.

Dropping the briefcase, Ernst held up his hands. With everything that was going on, he was not surprised, nor bothered by the reaction. He held his hands up out of a courtesy to her.

" _Frau Skorzeny_!" he called out to her. "It's me Emmi, its _Ernst_!"

The familiar voice and reminder washed over her. Slowly Emmi's expression relaxed into a look of relief at the sight of her husband's personal friend. She lowered her husband's hunting shotgun. As she set the rifle on the side of the door, Ernst dropped his hands and stepped forward, offering the stressed woman a reassuring smile. Emmi nearly bolted down the stairs and threw herself into Ernst's arms.

"What are you doing here at this time of night?" She breathed frantically as she pulled back out of his embrace. "Otto told me you were in _Spain_!"

Ernst confirmed her query with a smile and a nod.

"I was, but I came back on unfinished business. As of a few hours ago, my business is both you and Waltraut," Ernst spoke as he pressed his hand on her shoulder. "Your husband has made powerful enemies and because of that you are in serious danger, Emmi... I... I feared I would be too late…"

The stutter worked wonders in breaking down any resistance Emmi might have had about leaving the home in the middle of the night without the consent of her husband. Never before had he did such a thing in her presence. She now would understand how imperative it was to obey him.

"Otto is in _danger_?" Emmi repeated disbelievingly. She appeared unable to fathom such a concept. "Otto is on an assignment from the Reichsführer. Why would _he_ be in danger? Is it the rebels who've threatened him?"

Kaltenbrunner took a step closer to the woman. Close enough so that the woman could see the darkened giant shake his head. The rebels were the least of their concern.

"I wish that was so. It would be so much simpler," Ernst murmured to her in a conspiratorial whisper. "Himmler is a paranoid wreck. He believes Otto's loyalty to the Party is in doubt. He intends on sending Heydrich here to create a personal motivation for your husband to… _ensure_ … his support."

Falling silent, Ernst watched as the woman`s expression contorted into a horrified visage. Otto was right about her. She didn`t have the mental capacity of a child like most women he knew. He did not need to spell it out for the benefit of a stupid, foolish woman. Emmi immediately understood the gravity of the situation. It was likely something taught to her by Otto. Otto couldn't abide foolishness in women, and Emmi was his second attempt at having an intelligent partner in a marriage.

"Why would they do something like that?" Emmi demanded to know. "So they would kill Waltraut and me… and for what? Frame the enemy, I take it? It's **absurd**!"

Ernst closed the final gap between them. His hand fell heavily on her shoulder. Like a brother attempting to be patient with a particularly obnoxious sister. Perhaps Emmi was treading too deep into what was happening. In some ways it made Ernst happy to have taken a stupidly naïve woman as his bride. At least she knew not to ask too many questions.

"When Himmler demands results, he's going to get it when he has no superior to answer to," Ernst decided to humour Otto's wife as he dropped his hand and placed it back into his jacket pocket. "Your husband is on assignment to save the Führer. The moment the mission is successful, the matter will be all cleared up and it will be safe to return; but until then we need to leave now… as a safeguard, you understand."

Maintaining her sharp eyes on Ernst, Emmi finally relaxed her posture and nodded.

"Oh… Okay…Right," she spoke as she started her way back into the house with Kaltenbrunner in lockstep behind her. "Just let me go and gather Waltraut and some items to brin-"

A small shocked gasp escaped the woman. She turned right around and stumbled backwards as her eyes locked accusingly on Kaltenbrunner; his expression filled with a genuine guilt for what he had just done to her. She glanced down and wrapped her hands around the bayonet handle, its blade shoved deep into her liver. It was a painful, slow moving mortal wound.

Kaltenbrunner blinked as he inspected the wound he inflicted on the woman. It was exactly the Modus Operandi of Reinhard Heydrich. Kill, but kill slowly. The moment Otto saw what happened to his beloved wife, there would be no possible way for Heydrich to flee and ruin his ascension to command what remained of the National Socialist movement.

Ernst stepped forward once again. Gently removing Emmi's hand off the handle, he pulled the knife out. Her wide eyes stunned at she continued to look at a man she considered a friend. He knew better than to think that was still the case, but he genuinely still felt great affection for her. She did not deserve what was happening to her, but rarely was life fair to anyone. This was necessity.

As her legs begun to buckle underneath her, Ernst dropped the knife and caught her. With great care, he sat down with her in his arms. He had to kill her for the sake of the future, but unlike what he did to the Himmler family, he could afford this unfortunate woman some solace in her waning minutes. He had to admit he was baffled he could do this. More or less people who were being killed did not like to be in the company of their killers. Emmi, on the other hand, did not appear to mind. In fact she clutched onto him tightly as though he were her father or some sort of role such as that.

 _"I'm… so sorry, Emmi…"_ he whispered to the bleeding woman.

He genuinely meant it. He still did not want to do this. It was just something he had to do…

Emmi did not reply at first. She instead coughed up a mouthful of blood into her lap. Silently Ernst rubbed the saliva and blood off her lips. He frowned slightly as she laboured to breathe; as she struggled to survive a wound she would not be able to survive. It would be so, so much easier for her if she just succumbed to her death.

 _"W-why… what… what are d-d-doing…"_ she asked, her gravelly voice panicked as she stared widely into Ernst's eyes.

Ernst slipped one hand down and covered Emmi's. He squeezed it carefully as he sadly smiled down to her.

 _"I am so, so sorry, Emmi,"_ he whispered to her, genuinely upset with himself. _"I wish it did not have to come to this, but it had to come to this. You deserve an explanation."_

He fell silent as Emmi struggled against him in some sort of vain attempt to get away and stagger to somewhere that could treat her. She found enough strength to wrench her hand away from Kaltenbrunner and stand back up. Ernst stood up as well; staying still as he watched Emmi staggered her way towards the house.

"The Reich is over, Emmi. Another one is about to rise and there is nothing that your husband's herculean efforts can do about it…" Ernst addressed her as he took his first steps forward. "I need him at my side, and I know you. I can't have you influencing Skorzeny in an atmosphere where he does not hold loyalty to Hitler. He's far too important to my efforts four you to have say in his actions."

Ernst paused as he watched Emmi hit the stairs and collapse hard on them. He bent over and rolled the heaving, dying woman over on her back. Her wide, frightened eyes looked up at her killer helplessly. The poor thing wanted nothing more than to live, to grow old with Skorzeny, and it would not happen no matter how much she now wanted it.

"The next years are going to be a struggle… and I just didn't see any way you or Elisabeth will be able to survive it," he concluded. Ernst leaned down and pulled the hand clutching her wound tightly.

There was more to it, of course. Without Emmi there, Otto would be dependent on Ernst for the safety of his daughter. With Waltraut Skorzeny in his pocket, perhaps she too could be utilized as a replacement to her Father. Having seen how deadly quarian women were when granted to the right to fight, he had become very open to women in the ranks… when they were ready of course.

He watched silently as Emmi's eyes widened as he admitted to her that his wife would be also sacrificed for his cause as well in a year or so. The group and his children would assume his wife would be killed by agents of the Abwehr in order sow distrust between the German government and the group. He needed them to believe that there was an incredible disconnect between him and the quarians and German collaborators. So Elisabeth would have to die for the cause. It would be the first and last time she would be useful.

 _"W…Waltraut…don'… don't harm her."_

Ernst pressed his finger against Emmi's lips. Softly he shushed her. He sat down next to her once again lifted the woman back into his arms.

"She will be fine, Emmi. Waltraut will survive," Ernst promised her sincerely as he reached in his jacket and removed a pair of gloves to put on. "I know my words do not mean much to you in your twilight, but I swear she will be as safe as my children. Otto will raise her well… and you will always be a fond memory for the two of them…"

With great care, Ernst pressed one hand over her mouth and nose, the other tightly wrapped around her throat. He held his pressure. Ignoring Emmi as she fought to survive what was happening to her. It was an admirable, but futile struggle on her part.

Remaining idle as her last gasp, Emmi drifted off the mortal plane, still resting comfortable in her murderer's arms. Closing her eyelids, Ernst pulled himself away from her and stood up. Her held his eyes on her and murmured a small prayer for both her and for forgiveness to the Creator. It was a crime what he did. But it was a necessary crime. Everything he did in the past day was necessary crimes.

Silently he returned to the spot where he had left his briefcase. He bent forward and removed a line of rope already knotted into a hangman's noose roughly the size for a child and a syringe filled with a sedative.

He would keep his promise to Emmi. Waltraut would survive, but she couldn't exactly be left unmarked… It would be far too obvious. A last moment rescue of the Skorzeny child would make Otto loyal to him in a way that only Hitler received from the man.

Taking both tools, Ernst stood back up and made his way towards the house, stepping over the corpse of Emmi as he ascended the stairs.

…

…

"Stand down, men. That's far enough Admiral Jarva."

The machine gun nests relaxed somewhat at the order of their leader. It was enough of a signal to Alaan'Jarva to step forward. He locked his eyes straight ahead as he wiped all traces of emotion from him. He needed to remain cool and collected in the face of the savage raiders who killed dozens of his people in order to secure a tyrant.

Worst yet, the savage killers were being led by none other than the bastard who killed his son…

It did not take a genius to know why Otto Skorzeny had specifically summoned him; the stuttering mental collapse of Magda Goebbels and the disappearance of Hitler. He had assigned Hanala the task of convincing Hitler to eat. It was his fault that Skorzeny now had a position in which to bargain from. Looking to each of the dead security detail, he could not find Halid'Zorah either. Worst case scenario was that they captured him as well, best case they did him a favour and already executed him.

As Skorzeny stood up and dropped his cigarette, Alaan could see the sheer amount of damage he had taken as he turned around to face the Admiral. His forehead was stitched up, his nose and eyes puffy, his neck and shoulder were both wrapped up tightly, but the white bandaging was soaked red. It looked as though Skorzeny had been on the receiving ending of a merciless, vicious attack. Alaan forced himself to remain stony faced; He knew it had to have been Hanala who did it. If she was anything like her Mother, she would not be captured without a fight.

"Admiral Alaan'Jarva," the human spoke as he stepped one stride forward, his hands behind his back. "I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Skorzeny, and today you work for me."

As the gathering of humans chuckled at their leader's blatant disrespect for the Admiral, Alaan crossed his arms as he looked from each and every face. The sheer hatred possessed by the quarian was enough to stifle the laughter. They appeared to realize that they were looking at the one man who could ruin the rest of their lives for what transpired today.

"Today I'm here to discuss your surrender, Skorzeny," Alaan responded as he glared at the leader. "None of you can be deluded enough to think that no matter what you do, or who you abduct you will be able to alter what happens next."

Alaan crossed his arms over his chest. There was no display of curiosity on the part of Skorzeny. He remained defiantly still. Alaan took it as a cue.

"You did the worst possible thing. You gave us a reason to be directly involved in your fight," Alaan pressed on, his tone rising higher and higher. "You might not think much of our troops - and granted, we haven't had a ground conflict in decades - but we do possess a fleet of these ships and a reason to start making life miserable for you. Wherever you run, whatever hole you scamper to hide in, I'll be looming over it with enough firepower to turn this whole planet into a smoking asteroid field."

Skorzeny still did not reply. It appeared that he digesting the overkill threat Alaan had made. It surely was overdramatic, but the core message was clearly in his thoughts. No matter where he went, or what he did, Alaan would have the capacity to end Skorzeny's life if he so much as popped his head up. If there was any fear, Skorzeny absolutely refused to show it. His machine like disinterest was enough of a sign for Alaan.

"I shall worry about that when the time comes," Skorzeny replied casually. "Until then, we have current business to discuss."

Skorzeny stepped back and turned his head and gestured to the shuttle.

It took all of Alaan's effort to not roar out in offense or charge as out climbed one of the men under Skorzeny's command, his hand was dragging an utterly battered Hanala by her hair. Hanala did not struggle like he taught her. She was submissive, she did not make a noise at her own obvious pain as she was thrown to the feet of Skorzeny, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck pulled her to her knees in front of him.

He knew that she was captured, still that did not prepare him for the horrifying sight of the consequences of fighting a futile fight. She looked as though she was almost knocked unconscious.

Seething with rage as Skorzeny levelled his turian made heavy pistol against the back of her head, Alaan stepped forward. Skorzeny's battered face broke into a dark grin as he shoved the barrel hard against her skull, making the Father stop. Hanala remained silent. She did not flinch; she did not as much as react to the threat. She instead held her swollen eyes on her Father.

"As you can see, we've more than secured our passage back to the Reich," Skorzeny growled as he shook the woman. "The reason we are talking is about is local transport and how we keep you off the Führer's back when he reassumes control of the Reich… whatever you lot haven't destroyed yet."

Forcing himself to break eye nearly panicked gaze at his child, Alaan looked back to Skorzeny as he digested the demand that was being ordered. It was a very nearly impossible thing he was asking for. There was no possible way for Hitler to be liberated. Not without invasive surgery… something Alaan doubted very much Skorzeny would allot him the time.

"I can't make any sort of guarantee like that," Alaan returned as he took a step forward, ignoring the machine gunners shifting their enormous MG-42's. "Hitler is implanted with tracking devices in case a liberation attempt was made on Earth. Unless you're willing to stay in the ship for an additional several hours…"

Skorzeny barked orders at the shuttle. Another one of his commandos came out, carrying Saleb, who was screeching and punching the giant in his chest over and over again to no avail. Alaan's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as he looked helplessly at his Granddaughter now held captive in the hands of the bastards. How could this have happened…? This couldn't be happening…

Alaan forced himself to turn back to Hanala, who appeared to be shaking. Her eyes were filled with a silent apology. That foolish… foolish child, why would Hanala think that bringing Saleb to visit that bosh'tet Hitler would be a good idea in the first place?!

As the child was brought down to him, Skorzeny holstered his pistol and kicked Hanala hard in the back, dropping her fragile frame down to the deck. He held her head down by stepping on the back of her neck as he took the still screeching Saleb from his subordinate.

"You had best not be lying to me, Herr Jarva. The Führer made a very good point to me not an hour ago. He reminded me that I could kill Hanala and you will still allow us to leave because we have your late son's child," Skorzeny warned the wide eyed Admiral. "Now rethink your position and find an alternative; it's more than Hanala or Saleb's life that is at stake. Twenty-five of your marines are sitting in a prison. They will be _executed_ as well if you do not grant my demands. Submit and everyone in my hands leave alive."

Alaan was shaking in renewed fury. Not just for his children being held by this bastard, but that Skorzeny was holding even more men and women captive on Earth. More bargaining chips for him to get what he wanted. After a year of nearly flawless manoeuvring, in the twilight of the covert usurping, everyone lost their patience and now this audacious human had gotten an upper hand.

For the first time, the bastard cracked a slight mocking smile. He knew how much sway he held.

"I've already killed your son; do you really want to repeat the process and kill this horrid little _bitch_?" He demanded to know, his foot digging even deeper into Hanala's neck. "Neither of us needs her blood, or the quarians I captured on our hands. Comply with my two demands and we all leave this mess with a win."

Alaan felt his breath get caught up in his throat. For the first time, the man who had killed his son acknowledged what he had done. He had expected malice or mocking in Skorzeny's tone. There was none. It was simply a cool, professional statement. Killed… killing Rael was simply a job to him.

Alaan did not get a chance to reply right away. He did not get to ask why. Instead a small voice spoke instead.

 _"You killed my father?"_

Skorzeny did not reply to the question asked by the shocked Saleb, he did not even so much look at the child. Whether it was guilt or contempt, Alaan could not tell. The stunned expression on the child's face slowly contorted into an expression of absolute hatred and disgust for the human. She was in the arms of the man who killed her Father.

Slowly Skorzeny set Saleb down at his side. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck in order to keep her from fleeing. The girl struggled and fought just like her Father would have done. But there was simply no way small child could do anything to resist Skorzeny.

"Here's the deal," Skorzeny spoke as he activated his omni-tool and glanced at it for a second or two. "It is 23:37 local time. In one and a half hours I will land this shuttle at Kiel-Holtenau airfield. I expect a transport plane fuelled to take the Führer to his rendezvous. You can have your future son-in-law oversee the exchange. Second, you will find means to scramble the devices implanted in him."

Alaan took another step forward.

"You have to give us more tim-"

 **"NO MORE GAMES, JARVA!"** Skorzeny interrupted him, his voice roaring into a scream. "If you don't obey, I will **kill** your daughter now, **kill** the grandchild groundside before Hoch can do anything and **execute** all the prisoners! Submit now! Submit before it's too late!"

" _Fine_ … Fine you'll get everything you demand," Alaan quickly replied, his panic getting the better of him for the first time. "My granddaughter needs an environmental suit as well. She'll get seriously ill if she doesn't! She'll possibly have a fatal reaction!"

Skorzeny held up his hand and turned back. Still clutching the screaming Saleb by the scruff of her neck, he handed the child back to the soldier who brought her out. With his hands free once again, he bent over and lifted Hanala by her hair and lifted her up with no resistance.

"You have half an hour to obtain a means to scramble the Führer's transmitters and keep your grandchild from dying the moment she takes her first breath on earth," Skorzeny concluded. "I suggest you get to it."

With his negotiations concluded. Skorzeny backed up and left, moving back into the relative safety of the ship With Hanala dragged behind him like a sack. His hand waved and with that gesture, his special operations team went back into a state of alert. Their rifle's pointing to the lone alive quarian in the docking bay.

Seething with rage, Alaan left as well in a run. He did not have long to oblige the bastard and organize Hoch to make the exchange.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The noise of muffled shouting broke Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt out of his light sleep.

The old professional soldier groaned as he pulled his exhausted body to a sitting position. He had specifically told his aide that there was to be no disturbances of his rest. His doctors had told him time and time again that his damaged heart could not be strained with sleepless nights and near constant pouring over action reports and battle plans like he could before his heart attack while leading the assault on Rostov. Now that the Civil War was winding down, Rundstedt could begin paying heed to the medical advice, at least until he resumed his role in the east.

It would likely not be for long that he would be like this. After confessing this illness to Halid'Zorah, Zorah offered the Prussian medical treatment and a potential fix. Sort of on the line of what they did for Heydrich. The thing was Heydrich's body was rejecting it. Until he had a certainty, Gerd would decline it in favour of routine, if limited, treatment. Rest and relaxation was infinitely better than turning into a living corpse like Heydrich apparently was.

Pulling on his robe and wrapping it tightly over his nightwear, Gerd sleepily stumbled towards his bedroom room, leading to his lounge where the argument was coming from.

As he opened the door, the argument died down. Standing there was Hauptmann Kurt Eckhart, his bodyguard with one hand on his pistol belt, and of course Joachim Hoch. He appeared… strange… It was an expression Gerd never saw before in the young man. He had seen the boy mad and miserable; seething in a blood rage and on the verge of killing himself, but this was different. This was clearly panic by the look of it.

"My apologies, Herr Generalfeldmarschall," Eckhart spoke without turning back to Gerd. "He refused to obey your request."

"Leave now, Hauptmann," Gerd requested.

Eckart remained still for several moments. He continued to glare at Hoch before he looked away, taking his hand off his pistol and pushing by the Oberst. As Hoch stepped forward, Gerd scowled at the young man.

"What is the meaning of this, Hoch? Only a punk kid like you would have the audacity to it erupt your superior," Gerd barked at the approaching man. "I was under the impression that Manteuffel was taming you into something respectable. I suppose I can't blame him, ex brown-shirt reactionaries are difficult to housetrain…"

It was more or less a joke, but Gerd knew the boy and knew he would get riled up at the insults. It was quite amusing to get under the skin of the former SS man. It was a good indicator of just how far he was coming. This time there was no reaction. It was clear now that something serious had Hoch spooked.

"Did you get the message?" Joachim demanded as he activated his omni-tool. "On your omni-tool, did you get the message?"

Rundstedt could not help but sneer distastefully at the question.

"No, I don't keep my omni-tool on between these hours. I'm an old man who needs some damn rest and time to myself," he snapped back at Hoch. "Christ, one year into contact and already you young people are addicted to their technology."

Joachim did not react once again. He instead held up his messenger program for Rundstedt to read. Looking from the desperate expression Hoch wore to the message on the screen; Rundstedt stepped forward and leaned in to squint at the digital text.

 _Joachim,  
_

 _Skorzeny just attacked the Kareon and has liberated Hitler. He's holding Halid'Zorah and Hanala as his prisoners. Hanala… that damn fool brought Saleb along with her. Skorzeny has the two of them now. He wants a plane waiting for him at the Kiel-Holtenau airfield in two hours. Do not interfere with his mission._

Give him what he wants and let them run. I will handle them personally.

 _Alaan  
_

Looking back up, Gerd turned his attention back to Joachim, who deactivated his device and ran his peculiar machine hand through his hair. It was clear now why he was so upset. This went far beyond a simple break out. They had taken the alien he was cozy with... and apparently a charge left in her care? Yes, this was far past simply all of Hoch's sacrifices for his abduction of Hitler. This was Hoch's future in the balance, and it did not take a genius to see that the kid didn't exactly have a lot left to live for.

"They did it. Himmler… Skorzeny… They _actually_ did it," Hoch breathed disbelievingly.

Gerd felt his heart skip a beat as his eyes widened as cold realizations became present. It would only be a matter of time before Hitler announced his rescue to the world. The lie that bought him the loyalty of the troops would be revealed for what it was: a lie. How long would they support him and the Civil War? Not long. They swore their oath to defend Hitler in life. Well, Hitler was alive and that oath would be kept.

Understandably not waiting for permission to take a seat, Hoch pushed by the old man with ease and sat down hard on the couch; his hand covered his face. The robed Generalfeldmarschall stood alone by himself as the implications begun creeping up on him. Sighing, Gerd took a seat next to the young Oberst. Hoch did not notice it. He was too busy staring into his lap. He did not pay attention as Rundstedt cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I never understood your fascination for a nonhuman. Frankly they are… unnatural… _unappealing_ ," Gerd spoke, unable to find the right words to comfort. "But if you love her and the child you're apparently helping to raise, I'm willing to express my sympathy…"

Hoch broke his reverent stare at his lap to look at Gerd as though he grew a second head. Empathy was not exactly a strong suit in men of Gerd's generation, even less so as a military man. The boy actually curled his lip in disgust and turned away, growing more and more frustrated with his inability to do something, anything to foil the Hitler foul up that he had caused. It was as everyone told the boy: Kill Hitler and none of this would have happened. Now everything hung in the balance."

"If Alaan'Jarva fails to recapture him, I want your permission to personally hunt down Adolf Hitler and put an end to it," Joachim requested, his voice reforming back into one of steel. "God help me, but Alaan's wife was right. I made a selfishly moral choice last time and it has cost many people dearly. I won't make the same mistake twice."

Gerd remained silent as he inspected Joachim. The boy appeared earnest enough. He had learned from his mistake.

"I'll be pulling your whole division off the spearhead into Berlin," he assured the guilty looking Oberst. "The moment I have solid intelligence, Manteuffel and you will be hunting them down... if…"

Hoch arched his brow.

 _"If?"_

Gerd nodded grimly.

"If you still have a Regiment in the morning," Gerd elaborated for the young man. "The only reason the soldiers follow us is thanks to our lie. Hitler will reveal himself in a matter of hours, and when he does the men under our command will have to choose for their selves what happens next…"

There was an uncomfortable silence as Hoch absorbed just how much danger their cause was now in all due to him staking his personal honour before his duty. Disgusted and filled with self-loathing, Joachim stood up from his seat, and without waiting to be dismissed, the Oberst made his way towards the door. As he opened the door, Joachim paused.

"Even if my Regiment turns on me I will go after him," Hoch replied as he turned back. "I owe everyone that…"

As Hoch left, Gerd slumped into his seat and dreaded the fact that he would have to put his uniform on and go about damage control. He still could not believe this was happening…

…

…

 _"This is the Bridge to Docking Bay 3. You're clear to leave. On a personal note, I hope each and every one of you human bastards meets a gruesome ending."_

As Dalad'Voar closed the commlink to the Kareon, he activated the spacecraft. Otto Skorzeny watched in silence as the pilot pulled the shuttle out of the Kareon and back into the dark depth of the space between the Moon and the Earth.

Otto could not believe for a moment that he managed to have gotten away with this feat, this grand raid on an enemy many times technically superior. This attack would cement his legacy in the history books. All that he needed to do now was to get to Emmi and Waltraut before Himmler realized that he hadn't deployed poison gas against the aliens. Once it blew over and Himmler answered to Hitler once again it would be safe.

The smile vanished off his face as Otto glanced over to Dalad. He was focused on his piloting duty, but it was clear to him that the young captive quarian was sick with guilt He had betrayed everything he knew in order to protect his family. Otto suppressed the guilt of his hypocrisy. Not once did he really intend on bringing harm to Dalad's family. Everything he did was a mixture of fact and threat, but like Himmler, he too used fear to get what he wanted. It was an evil act to do.

"You've done good work, Voar," he complimented the quarian plainly. "It will be a shame to lose you when we arrive."

Dalad did not turn away from his duties.

"I betrayed my oath so that you could keep yours..."

Once again the pang of guilt crossed Skorzeny. Yes, he did destroy another man's oath…

"I know what I have done and under most other circumstances I would never do it. You have done me a great service, and I never forget the people who help me," Skorzeny replied to the dead eyed quarian. He paused, and then added. "As I promised, if you are called to trial, you will have my testimony and my eternal protection. One way or another, you won't see a day in prison... You have my word."

The statement must have caught Dalad of guard. He turned and looked at Otto with an expression of disbelief.

"You're offering me a role in… in whatever you have planned?"

Skorzeny offered the alien a slight grin.

"I can always use another good man… if you're up to it,"

Clasping the shaken quarian on his shoulder, Skorzeny stood up out of the co-pilot seat and made his way out of the cockpit and into the passenger section. As the doors closed behind him, Skorzeny scanned the many faces.

He looked his soldiers, some relaxing, others a bundle of nerves; but all of them grieving in one way or another for the eight men who died in the liberation action. Otto could not have been more proud of his men for their actions of the day: Minimal civilian casualties, maximum damage to the _Kareon's_ security personnel and the ship as a whole. It was a clean, textbook assault.

He looked to his captives. The youngest Goebbels children were together of course, both of them appeared to be scared, but strangely happy at the same time. For sitting next at the young girls was the Führer, their pseudo uncle of sorts. He appeared shaky from the combination of the flight and the hunger strike he had been on. He was munching on a package of sweets Himmler advised Skorzeny to take along on the mission. Apparently the Führer had a special cook and dietician awaiting his arrival. Until then sugar would have to do.

As soon as the Führer noticed Skorzeny was back in passenger compartment, he set the box of treats into the hands of the youngest Goebbels children and stood up. He stepped by Admiral Halid'Zorah, who was groggily fitting the quarian child into her environmental suit. The child was staring up at him with narrowed eyes. It was obvious why.

"Skorzeny… Otto, I do not ask for forgiveness lightly, but I must ask it of you here and now," the Führer spoke, making Skorzeny turn back to face him. "I see now the value of keeping the Jarva woman alive. My anger clouded the issue. I should have put more trust into your judgement."

Skorzeny shook his head.

"There is nothing to forgive, my Führer. If I were in your position, languishing in the hands of the aliens, I too would be upset at the display of compassion," Skorzeny replied as flashed the Führer as warm and confident smile as he could produce. "Compassion to Hanala'Jarva was the last thing I wanted to show, but we must use whatever we find to achieve our operational goals."

The Führer inclined his head.

"You are right of course," the Führer agreed. "This great victory has been months in the planning and a majority of the work done by you. It's your dedication and the sacrifice of your men alone that has returned my freedom. You are an agent of Providence, Herr Skorzeny. It is Providence that tells me that our struggle is right."

Once again the Führer shook Skorzeny's hand. For the first time a smile crossed his mouth. As the Führer patted his hand, he sat back down next to the children, leaving Skorzeny by himself in the crowded shuttle.

Looking at the Führer for a moment longer, Otto turned his head. Alaan's warning had put a serious damper on the high of his victory. It brought the man back to reality. What he did here was short-lived and ultimately foolish. The quarians would commit manpower to the rebel's cause in order to make up for their inevitable manpower loss when the midlevel officers and common soldiers realized they had been lied to. The conflict would be over inside a week and the quarians would retain their control of Germany and the planet. This he dared not admit openly in present company.

So why did he do what did today? Was it pride that kept him from backing down? It was a combination of pride, pressure and ultimately a threat to his family. But perhaps there had been more to it; the thrill of spitting in the eyes of a smug enemy who deserved a serious punch in the nose was a powerful motivator. Whatever the case, in the twilight of the attack on the Kareon, it felt like a two day binge drinking marathon: a joy with a bitter hangover at the end.

It was over and done with now. All that Otto could do was return back to Küstrin and hide his family until Himmler was dealt with.

A groan caught his attention as well as Zorah and the child. It was Hanala'Jarva. She was curled up into a ball in clear agony. Her wounds were untreated, nor dulled. She had been in this state for hours and would continue to be until she was released. As soon as he clasped the helmet over Saleb's head, Halid'Zorah knelt down at Hanala'Jarva's side and rolled her carefully out of herself defensive posture.

Pulling out a package of cigarettes, Skorzeny lit one up as he took a seat and crossed one leg over the other. His eyes watched Zorah and the child like a hawk. Zorah had lifted the Jarva woman's head up and rested it in his lap. The child was squeezing her aunt's hand and jerking her arm as if to get attention.

Ignoring his own physical discomfort, Skorzeny exhaled a mouthful of smoke, his free hand rubbing his moustache.

"How is she?" he asked the quarian known as Halid'Zorah.

Zorah's expression darkened as he turned away from woman sprawled on his lap and back to the man who had beaten her within an inch of her life. The anger was understandable. Zorah did not see the amount of violence Jarva had inflicted first, and then sustained until she finally submitted.

"Quarians are harder to break than humans, but that's not to say you haven't savaged her. She has a busted nose and a concussion," Zorah growled at the Waffen-SS man. "You know I hate her immensely, but even I have to wonder if this beating was necessary."

Skorzeny sighed and squatted down across from Hanala and Halid. His hands were laced together

"I didn't want to do that," he addressed the woman, his voice tinged with a slight regret. "You weren't going to win the day, so all of this pain is your fault alone. I don't make it a habit to harm women unless they do something like this to me."

Skorzeny gestured to the stitches in his head. Zorah snorted derisively and turned his attention back to dabbing Hanala's wounds.

 _"Two… million…"_

Hanala did not finish her statement, she slurred once again; some sort of murky salvia drooled out of the side of her mouth as her head rested into the shoulder of Admiral Zorah. Zorah tapped her face, purposefully inflicting pain to keep the concussed alien alert. Halid`Zorah looked up and found Otto staring at him. Waiting for a clarification of what the awful bitch was trying to say.

"Two million: that's a low estimation of causalities of Himmler's extermination program. A program your boss ordered years ago," Alaan elaborated for Hanala, his voice strained as his flickered his eyes from Skorzeny to the Führer, who was not paying attention. "It was not enough to isolate and deport. No, it had to be a final solution. That is what you support, Skorzeny. That is what your loyalty buys you: complacency to one of the greatest crimes inflicted on your own species."

Skorzeny stared at both of them. What in the hell were they talking about… _Extermination_?

He knew about the camps. Most Germans did of course. Concentration camps in times of war were hardly a new thing. He knew that the British and her dominions used them long before Germany had in the Boer War and the Great War.

"Do you understand what Hitler has done?" Zorah's whisper turned harsh. "Millions of men, women and children wiped off the face of the earth with no justification. Sure, perhaps there were bad ones amongst them, ones that supported Bolshevism, ones that fought against your cause, but this is wholesale slaughter, Skorzeny!"

He did not need this right now. Otto did not have the time to discuss matters that were of little consequence to him. If he wanted to discuss RSHA policy, he would approach Kaltenbrunner about that until then, he simply could not care less.

 _"I'll let you in on a secret,"_ Skorzeny muttered to them. _"All of that is none of my concern. I don't care about that. I really don't. Your assumption that you can make me rethink what I am doing is a waste of time. When I swore my oath to the Führer, I swore both my life and fealty to him until the very end. No amount of dead Jews and whatever Himmler killed is going to change my mind."_

Skorzeny's draconian opinion silenced Zorah at least temporarily. The alien looked at him with renewed disgust.

 _"You killed my Father."_

The small voice, belonging to a child made Skorzeny turn his attention back to the youngest quarian he captured. Saleb'Jarva, Hanala'Jarva's adopted niece. Her bright eyes from behind the plate glass stared back at him. She wanted answers, answers that Skorzeny had none for.

"I did kill your father, girl. It was my duty; just as it would have been your Father's duty to kill me if he got the order," Skorzeny admitted to the child. "It took me an hour to get him. He lasted the longest, and he nearly killed me. I have a daughter about your age. She would have been made fatherless just as you are."

"My Father was nice, he would never hurt anyone," Saleb hissed right back. "You're a monster."

Skorzeny frowned and leaned forward to her.

"I wouldn't expect a child to understand, so I will make you an offer," Skorzeny returned to the girl. "When you are older, and should you still hold an untameable hatred in your heart for me. Search me out and try to kill me. I won't lie down and let you do it, so you better be ready to end up like your Father: dead and gone."

The little girl stared at Skorzeny for a little longer, and then exploded into loud, sopping tears at Skorzeny's statement. The soldiers, children and the Führer stared at the noise source. In a matter of moments, Halid reached over and pulled the little girl into his arms and held her tight against his chest.

Halid's eyes were filled with hatred for Skorzeny as he rested his chin on the little girl's shoulder.

 _"I hope Joachim does her a favour and kills you,"_ Halid growled at him. _"If not, I'll make it my business to see you meet your end."_

Glaring at Halid, Skorzeny stood up and left their company. He had to plan out how they would be able safely get into the aircraft when they arrived… especially if Hoch was going to be there.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Joachim checked his wristwatch. It was 02:14 and still no sign of that bastard Skorzeny.

He arrived at Kiel-Holtenau airfield an hour along with two companies from. The companies secured the airfield in order to make sure there was no additional support to Skorzeny. From there he had his platoon commanders organize who were the best shots, gave them rifles with telescopic scopes and deployed them at all angles of the Ju 52 Transport plane that Gerd von Rundstedt had sent to the field. They would be on over watch, making sure that the bastards who attacked the Kareon and stole Hanala and Saleb did not act out of hand.

He had also deployed snipers of a rather… larger scale to just outside the grounds of the airfield. Four Panthers were stationed and ready to shoot the plane down before it left the tarmac. It was determined by Joachim before he approached Gerd von Rundstedt that Hitler would not be escaping his fate. Not now, not again. Joachim would end the threat before it materialized. He owed it to everyone to do so.

For now what mattered was getting the prisoners out of the way of the snipers and Panthers. Once Hanala, Saleb and he supposed Halid'Zorah were out of the way, and then he would order the attack.

A familiar hum caught his attention. As Joachim looked up into the night sky, a shining glow pushed through the clouds. It was the shuttlecraft descending at rapid speed. As soon as it reached the final thirty or so metres, the vehicle slowed right down and hovered down to its final landing place.

Joachim raised his hand to the small contingent of troops watching in disbelief at the vehicle that landed.

"Keep your weapons at your side," Joachim commanded. "Do not engage unless I order it."

As the side door slid open, Joachim unsnapped his pistol holster and stepped forward towards the shuttle. As he did a figure was kicked outside and laid sprawled, submissive on the ground. Through the glowing exterior lights, Joachim could just barely make out who it was.

His eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. It was Hanala laying there, battered terribly and struggling to get up.

Before she could do anything, a huge, environmental armoured human jumped out of the shuttle next. He lifted Hanala up by her neck and pressed the barrel of a nasty looking quarian pistol into her head. Joachim roared out and took another dozen steps forward.

 **"No closer, you bastard traitor!"** the roar of Skorzeny echoed out electronically through the helmet he wore. **"Drop your pistol or I'll splatter this bitch's head all over the tarmac!"**

Joachim froze up. His eyes were bulging, his teeth grinding. This coward was using every resource he had for survival. Beating and killing a woman was clearly not above him. Remembering his intentions, Joachim calmed himself down the best he could. He stepped back, pulled the pistol out of his belt and threw it far behind him.

Satisfied, Skorzeny dragged Hanala two steps closer to Hoch. As he did a dozen or so commandos filed out of the shuttle, their quarian rifles directed at him and the soldiers behind Joachim.

"I'm not going to play any games," Hoch replied, forcing his voice to remain collected. "The plane is prepared for your departure. I want the prisoners released."

Skorzeny wasn't buying it. He barked out and another commando came out of the shuttle, throwing Halid'Zorah in front of the commando team. Like Hanala, he was battered, but nowhere near as disoriented as she was.

"Not yet, you _degenerate_ ," Skorzeny growled at him. "Not until the Führer, my team and I are onboard the plane. Only then they are released."

Joachim held up his hands.

"I can't do that without you coming _halfway_ with me on this. I have snipers positioned all angles of the airfield and. At the very least you will release Saleb to me!" Joachim shot back right away. "Release the child and you can start moving. You… you can use Hanala as cover to the plane."

Skorzeny remained silent and still. His pistol never wavered against her head. He was still far from being convinced by Hoch. He glanced around his surrounding, likely already knowing that the snipers were already in position, just waiting for a shot to ring out.

"You're a Father, Skorzeny," Zorah called out to Skorzeny. "Do the right thing for onc-"

A rifle stock hit Zorah in the back, making the Admiral hit the pavement hard. Skorzeny glanced briefly to Zorah, who was pulling himself back up. The bastard sighed as though he was making a great sacrifice.

"That's quite generous of you, Hoch…" Skorzeny mocked the younger man. "Since you were that kind, I'll release all the children to you."

Leaving Joachim confused by the statement, Skorzeny patted the man next to him. He lowered his rifle and returned inside of the shuttle. Within a matter of moments, he returned back outside. He was carrying what appeared to be Saleb. She was clothed in a child size variant of an environmental suit. Following the Commando was two human children. It was none other than the littlest Goebbels children Hedda and Heide. Both of them were smiling as though it was a game.

The Commando stepped in front of Skorzeny and Hanala and set Saleb down. Joachim watched with a sudden fear as Saleb turned around and wrapped her arms around her injured Auntie. The commando reached out and pulled her away. With one hard shove he pushed the girl onto the pavement, making Saleb yelp.

Joachim took one step forward.

 **"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"** he screamed at the offending soldier.

In a display of strength that surprised Joachim, Saleb did not cry. She instead held her eyes hard on Hanala for a moment and turned back, running towards Joachim, Hedda and Heide hot on her heels. Joachim bent down and scooped Saleb up into his arm. Silently he pushed the Goebbels children behind him.

"Saleb… are you okay?" he demanded.

Saleb nodded. She pulled back away from him and bounced on her toes. She looked around at the darkened airfield nervously before turning back.

"They hurt Auntie Hanala really bad."

It was Joachim's turn to nod. Like the Goebbels's children, he put Saleb behind him and stood up straight.

"I know, and I'll deal with that as soon as she's safe," he assured the girl. Joachim looked up and met Skorzeny's stare.

 _ **"Get moving you bastard!"**_ he roared at Skorzeny finally.

Skorzeny did not need to be told twice. His men lifted Halid and he lifted Hanala. The unit put their guard up and in unison; they made their way down towards the Ju 52. It became clear that one of the armed men was not a commando. It was Hitler, armoured and disguised as one of them. The only thing that would guarantee his death would be using his Panther trap.

Joachim gestured to his contingent of troops. They bolted down in his direction and took up position in front of the children. With the three secured, Joachim grabbed one man's STG-43 and followed after Skorzeny down the tarmac and towards the Ju 52. He pulled back the hammer and held the rifle up as he followed them.

As the commandos opened the side door of the transport, they began filing into the aircraft. Skorzeny kicked Halid's leg down until he fell back onto his knees and turned back to one of last of them, stopping him from entering. The commando pulled off his helmet to reveal a quarian male under it and nodded. Skorzeny clasped him on the shoulder and turned back to Joachim, whose rifle was still pointing at him.

"It was fun Hoch, really," Skorzeny called out to him. "But I hope that I never have to see your _cunt_ face again."

Skorzeny climbed into the aircraft and turned around. He pulled his helmet off to reveal that his face was almost as beaten and bloodied as Hanala. The difference was the huge, mocking smile splashed on his face.

"Oh, did Alaan'Jarva fail to mention the two dozen quarian marines I have held captive somewhere in the Reich?" Skorzeny shouted to him. "I guess you didn't hear that they would be executed should I fail check in the moment I arrive at wherever I plan to be. I think you might want to pull those Panzers out of the bush!"

Skorzeny waved once again and entered the Ju 52, slamming the side shut behind him. He left Joachim standing there, dumbstruck and seething with rage. That son of a bitch… he was getting away with this… This was his moment of glory. Without warning, the shuttle exploded into a fireball. Joachim paid no attention to that.

His anger was subverted for the time being. Hanala was being limped towards him with the help of Zorah and a second quarian that Skorzeny had captured. Shaking himself out of his rage, Joachim lowered his rifle and shouldered it, instead stepping forward to close the gap between Hanala and him.

 _"Joooachim... I missed you…"_ Hanala moaned. Her hands flayed out and wrapped weakly around him.

Forcing himself to smile for her Joachim returned the hug for a moment before hearing Hanala gasp out in pain. Shocked by the noise, his quickly relaxed and pushed both the unnamed quarian and Halid out of the way. Hanala was his, so carrying her was his duty.

 **"GET ON THE RADIO!"** Joachim screamed to his men further down the tarmac as the engines of the Transport pane kicked to life **. "FOR FUCKS SAKE, CANCEL THE AMBUSH!"**

As Hanala and he moved slowly down towards where he had left Saleb and the Goebbels children, Zorah pulled the STG-43 off of Hoch's shoulder and raised it at the quarian male who could also apparently exist in an Earth environment. The quarian raised his hands up. He was clearly exacerbated. Like having a gun shoved into his face was hardly a new occurrence for him.

"Put this man into custody, Hoch!" Zorah demanded. His voice filled with a great steaming rage. "He collaborated with Skorzeny! He helped Skorzeny's mission!"

Joachim was not paying attention. Saleb, Hedda and Heide had pushed through the guards tasked with watching them. The group of soldiers were hot on their heels.

"I was captured by Skorzeny after the attack on the Vienna outpost…" the quarian addressed the Admiral. "They threatened my family for my obedience... I had no choice."

Joachim looked from Saleb to the collaborator. He could see only the truth in him. Why would any man assist Skorzeny? If he was captured in the Vienna attack, then that would have meant he was jailed for the better part of five months. It was likely because of him that it took so long for Skorzeny to enact his breakout…

"He was a coerced prisoner-of-war, Zorah. I will have him under a guard detail, but I will not jail him," Hoch replied as he lifted Hanala up into his arms like a child. If you want to file charges, then you'll do it when you're back in a position to do so."

"He participated in the slaughter of dozens! You will place him under arrest!" Zorah reiterated. He was slurring his words now and was clearly in too terrible shape to make sense.

Joachim didn't even blink as he shifted Hanala in his arms.

"So have you, asshole; only you've killed more," Joachim shot back. He turned to Saleb, Hedda and Heide and added. "Come along. We're going home."

With that said, Joachim left Zorah with the reluctant quarian collaborator, Hanala in his arms and Saleb, Hedda and Heide in lock-step behind him. Joachim made it a point to ignore the Ju 52 roaring off the tarmac and off towards wherever Hitler intended on making his stand.

Whatever the case, all Joachim could do was hope that Alaan'Jarva would be able to handle it. It would not be long now before the world knew of Joachim's failure.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Nervously pulling on the hem of his jacket, Count Galeazzo Ciano could not help but be overwrought with an impending doom as he watched the grey coloured Junker Ju 52 made its final descent onto the airstrip. Being summoned to a six in the morning greeting at the improvised airstrip, featuring an entire cadre of SS troops and Martin Bormann meant one thing. Hitler was found and freed.

Fortress Redoubt was the pet project of Himmler and Il Duce since Hitler's capture. Located in the Italian alpine range, Mussolini moved the earth and put to work tens of thousands of his countrymen in carving a deep mountain fortress into Mount Ortler. With the construction of the huge complex for a dictator who had little Italian interests in mind still under construction, it was indeed an extravagant gift from his Father-in-Law to a man who would likely have never returned the favour had their positions been reversed.

Inside the mountain complex, Hitler would be able to regain control over the German Reich. Hopefully it would not take long. Il Duce did not seem to recognize just how many German soldiers and equipment was located in Italy, All of which under the command of the anti-national socialists rebels Rommel and Kesselring. The last thing Italy needed was the Civil War to spill into their streets. Worst yet, it would force Il Duce to take a side in the internal German conflict, something he steadfastly refused to do. If he supported Hitler publically, Rommel and his generals would pull out of North Africa and leave Italy wide open to the Anglo-American armies. If he showed too much support to Rommel and Kesselring, Himmler could potential order his forces to turn their attention to him.

To keep Himmler off his back, Il Duce went along with the pet project of Himmler since Hitler's capture. Located in the Italian Alpine range, Fortress Redoubt would serve as a base of operations to Hitler until his hold on Germany was rescued. Despite the long odds of Hitler's escape, Il Duce moved the earth and put to work hundreds of thousands of his countrymen in carving a deep mountain fortress into Mount Ortler. From inside the mountain, Hitler would be able to regain control over the German Reich.

All that Galeazzo knew for certain was that when he returned, Hitler had better get a control over his army. The last thing the Italian people needed now was Germany's insanity spilling over the border into their country. He had seen footage of what was happening in Germany. It was scorched Earth on a scale not seen since Stalin's eastward retreat in 1941 and they were doing to themselves.

There had to have been a payoff for the rebellious German officers. There had to be a reason for them to betray the civilian government and take over huge portions of German land and industry. This Civil War was uncharacteristic to the German identity. The thick-headed Germanics usually would be happy to follow their leader off the side of a canyon if the leader told them the bridge to the other side was invisible.

As the Ju 52 finished its taxi to the delegation, next to him Martin Bormann shifted nervously. As Party Secretary and with both Goebbels and Goring dead and Hitler absent he had absorbed quite a bit of power over the civilian National Socialist government. That meant that if he did anything wrong, Hitler would have a man to hang.

Although the aircraft came to a stop, the engines of the transport plane remained active as though it was needed for further transport. The side door opened and the back ramp hit the gravel with a loud clank. The first man to exit the aircraft was a giant wearing field fatigues, one of those M41 field caps and a dangerous sneer as he scanned everyone. He turned back to the plane.

Out climbed Adolf Hitler. Dressed in a civilian suit, he too eyed everyone before turning back to the giant Waffen-SS man, who presumably led his rescue from his captors. Hitler appeared… _strange_... healthier, stronger than their last encounter in Berchtesgaden. He had lost a few pounds and even in the glare of the lamp posts he was far less pallid. It seemed as though his captors treated him rather well all things considered.

That was when Ciano noticed something rather peculiar. The guard rolled up Hitler's sleeve. There appeared to have been a band of some sort on his exposed forearm. The guard fixed Hitler's jacket and stepped back, his hand flying over his head into a salute. Hitler returned it and shook his hand with a smile. The soldier – Hitler's apparent saviour - remained still as Hitler turned his attention to the delegation and shuffled his way over to Bormann and Ciano. With Hitler gone, the soldier broke out of attention and quickly climbed back into the transport plane and pulled the hatch up.

As Hitler closed the gap between Bormann and Ciano, the Italian turned his attention from the plane to the German dictator as he stopped in front of them.

"It has been long, too long since I have been in pleasant company," Hitler spoke up to the Foreign Minister and National Socialist Party Secretary. There was a jovial tone present in his exhausted voice.

Remember why he was here, it was Galeazzo who spoke before Bormann. He stepped forward to Adolf Hitler and forced an enthusiastic expression on his face.

"Herr Hitler, it is my privilege to welcome you to Fortress Redoubt," Ciano greeted Hitler with as much kindness as he could produce. "Fortress Redoubt and Mount Ortler as a whole is a gift to you from the grateful citizens of my nation and, of course Il Duce, for your steadfast support to our campaigns in North Africa, Yugoslavia and Greece."

Ciano stepped to one side and gestured to mountain fortress reaching towards the sky. It was a fortress that was inhabited by fourteen thousand SS men and thirty five thousand Italian workers. Hitler nodded as his hands wrapped behind his back. Slowly he nodded.

"Extend my well wishes and heartfelt thanks to Herr Mussolini, Count," Hitler spoke, his tone filled with approval. "I am flattered and indeed grateful for this gift of sovereign German soil, but I do not intend on staying here for long. I will take back my country, this I assure you. Our nations will fight on together once Germany has restored its pride."

Hitler turned away from the mountain and focused on Bormann

"Bormann, my old comrade; I am relieved to have you here," he continued on. "I need to be filled into the extent of the betrayal. I know that Göring and Goebbels are dead. Their lost is unimaginable…. _unthinkable_ …"

Bormann nodded gravely and Ciano stifled the urge to laugh. He heard that the Raeder had ordered the battleship _Tirpitz_ to fire a salvo on the man who singlehandedly ruined the Luftwaffe and suppressed the navy's growth. As far as death went, that was a pretty hilarious way for the bastard to go.

"-the entirety of the Party remains loyal and battles across the Fatherland in your name, my Führer," Bormann spoke, cutting across Ciano's thoughts. "That is not to say there hasn't been some… grey morality within the Party… most notably on the part of a certain Armaments Minister…"

Hitler narrowed his eyes at Bormann. He was not angry at hearing the accusation of potential betrayal, it was the fact that Bormann would dare to accuse his personal friend Albert Speer of wrongdoing. It was a shining testament to Hitler's loyalty to the man. Ciano had to respect that.

"Speer is loyal," Hitler spoke simply. "Not once in his service to our struggle has he shown an ounce of hesitation. Do you have anything to back up your claim?"

Bormann was now on the spot. It was clear that Bormann recognized that Speer was an enormous threat to his own powerbase. The friendship with Hitler made Speer dangerous to second guess publically, especially when it was in Hitler's presence.

"Well… no… I recognize that he is a good National Socialist with a spotless record, but Speer is playing both sides," Bormann explained with a great care to ensure his Führer did not explode. "He has to keep the Wehrmacht armed for obvious reasons, but some of his armaments are getting into the hands of the rebels. It's not just simple equipment. They have received advanced weaponry as well as the resources to fuel their wicked campaign."

Hitler remained silent as he absorbed this statement. His expression turned into a deep frown.

"I want Speer summoned to explain his actions," Hitler finally spoke. "And just who does this clique of criminal officers comprise of?"

"They are across all three branches; Raeder, Kesselring,

Von Rundstedt, Erwin Rommel and Heinz Guderian for sure," Bormann listed off as they walked down the line of SS men standing at attention. "The Eastern Front command leadership likely sympathizes to them, but they have not made any moves towards displaying public support, and frankly it is essential that we overlook those sympathies in order to keep Erich von Manstein from fully throwing his support to the cause, my Führer. He has spent the summer engaging in what he calls a 'back-handed offensive' against Zhukov and the rest of the Russians. He has destroyed 150 divisions at almost minimal losses."

Although Ciano was impressed by Von Manstein and his apparent ability to destroy the Soviets, Hitler appeared almost bored that entire armies were put to Generalfeldmarschall von Manstein's sword.

" _The_ _Presence_ has been aiding him. They likely have been providing him with armaments and logistical support to make this victory possible," Hitler murmured to himself than to anyone else. " _The_ Presence is misguided in their support against the National Socialist struggle, but if they are willing to sit down and work out an agreement, then perhaps a peace can be attained. We will be both stronger united…"

Ciano narrowed his eyes at the curious statement offered by the dictator. _The Presence_? What in the _hell_ was he talking about? Every powerful nation on Earth had chosen a side. Who else had the ability to provide intelligence and equipment to the Manstein's Army Group? Was it Japan, who was finally pulling her weight in the Anti-Comintern pact? Had Switzerland cancelled her neutrality and threw herself behind Germany?

Whatever it was, it was clear that Ciano would not get an answer. Not as Hitler turned away and found the leading SS man presiding over the SS garrison in Fortress Redoubt, Oberst-Gruppenführer Kurt Daluege. Daluege's day job was the overall commander of the Ordnungspolizei –the regular police- before the Civil War. Desperate for more manpower, Himmler pressed the whole police force into the Allgemeine-SS and appointed Daluege a military commander.

"What of the Waffen-SS?" he asked the SS general forcefully. "I have heard from my rescuer Skorzeny that the Waffen-SS has not budged from the frontlines. What is the meaning of that?"

Daluege, a man of over six feet almost cowered at the pointed question launched at him by his Führer. It took all of Daluege's efforts to not collapse on the spot.

 _"The… The Waffen-SS broke off all ties from the Allgemeine-SS following your supposed d-demise m-my Führer,"_ Daluege responded to the query right away, his voice strained and uneven. He was clearly a man under a lot of stress. _"The Waffen-SS Generals are following the cue of the Wehrmacht officers in the Eastern Front both out of necessity and fear they would be destroyed before they arrived back in Germany. They did not want to stir problems on the front until they knew for sure… that… that you lived..."_

The stuttering did not seem to bother Hitler. He filled with a muted anger. It was enough of a sign that Bormann backed away from Hitler.

"What has Himmler been up to these past few months," Hitler muttered furiously to himself as he shook his head. He turned back to Daluege once again and added. "I want you to get this on the wire to all Waffen-SS Divisions. They are to move West immediately. Once they receive the message I will contact the division commandants personally. We will see then if their loyalty to me will be honoured."

Daluege clicked his heels and inclined his head to one side. He still appeared apprehensive. It did not take long for Ciano to comprehend why that was so. Hitler's Praetorian Guard was not in the east like the other Waffen-SS unit…

"Of course, my Führer, it's just that the 1st SS Panzergrenadier Division Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler is in Africa as you may recall," Daluege spoke carefully "Rommel deceived all of us. He gave the impression of inter-service unity, but has isolated a full division across the Mediterranean. It will not be possible-"

 _ **"IT WILL BE POSSIBLE BECAUSE I HAVE ORDERED IT!"**_ Hitler suddenly screamed at the SS man. **"Get me on the line with Sepp Dietrich, and I will have him on the next boat to Italy; and I want Himmler here by sunset to explain this debacle! The SS in his entirety is his department!"**

With permission granted for his departure, Kurt Daluege could not have run faster in the direction of his car, leaving his bosses in what amounted to be a trail of dust. Fuming and now officially shaking, Hitler rounded back to Bormann, who had just cleared his throat.

"Rommel likely already knows you have been liberated, my Führer," Bormann reminded him. "He won't let them anywhere near the docks."

Hitler remained undeterred.

"Then he will cut through the British defenses on the Suez, push through the Sinai, push through the Palestinian Mandate and burn down their cities as a distraction for a unit to capture the docks and ships at Tel Aviv," Hitler returned, his tone cold as ice. "I want the Dietrich back in Europe in one week, no matter what the cost on either side. The Leibstandarte swore their lives to me, and I mean to collect on their vow; especially when it is Germany's survival at stake…"

They paused at end of the SS precession, and stood in front of the staff car waiting to take Hitler to Fortress Redoubt. Hitler turned back to Bormann and clasped his arm.

"I want you on a plane back to Berlin now," Hitler ordered the Party Chancellor. "I want to meet what remains of the Party in the Reichstag in two days."

There was a moment of protest in Bormann. He likely wanted to stay close to Hitler, as it had been before the Civil War. However it was not to be. Not when there was so much work to be done in order to legitimately restore Hitler back to his seat of power. Instead Bormann nodded and stepped back. His hand rose high over his head.

Hitler returned the gesture with a smile and a handshake. He remained silent as both he and Ciano watched as Bormann dismissed himself and head back to the airstrip. As soon as he was out of earshot, Hitler turned back to Ciano. His intense blue eyes pierced through Ciano's resolve.

"I do not ask for help lightly Senoire Ciano. My capture has humbled me, but my resolve remains _unshaken_ ," Hitler addressed him, his tone marked with a strange earnest in his pronouncement. "It will take some time before the Waffen-SS return back to Germany. I will be radioing the German people in the afternoon. With any luck the soldiers under control of the traitors will rebel, but if not I will require help from Mussolini. I need the help of your army to pacify the Rebel controlled Austria. Be sure to tell him that his help will not be forgotten."

Ciano remained silent as he absorbed the request Hitler had made. It must have been hard for him, approaching a minister of a nation he likely looked down on for help in saving his nation from traitors. Still, Ciano was not foolish enough to gloat at the situation. Italy needed Germany more times than Germany needed Italy. It would be disrespectful to the nation that saved their North African Protectorates and pacified Greek and Yugoslavia for them.

"I shall leave right away, Herr Hitler," Ciano informed Hitler with a reassuring smile. "Il Duce shall contact you as soon as I inform him of your request."

Satisfied by the responded, Hitler nodded and entered the Staff Car. The car left, leaving Ciano silently leery about Italian involvement in this brutal Civil War.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"This is Rommel! Hitler sent word to Sepp Dietrich. Sepp mobilized his Division two hours ago and has torn right through the Anglo build up in the Suez! I have sent a truce delegation to see if Montgomery will give me permission to pursue him!"_

 _"Manstein reporting, all but one Waffen-SS Divisions have pulled off the line and are in the process of heading west. I have alerted the Polish occupation garrisons to intercept them. Das Reich is in the midst of a mutiny by younger officers. I have sent units to pacify the division loyalists and fill in the gaps in the line before the Soviets realize what is happening."_

Alaan'Jarva slumped into the Captain's seat, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. This was it. The ending of Waffen-SS neutrality was the first step to the collapse of the Rebellion. Hitler was back and the lie would be exposed for what it was -a sham. It would not be long now before the armies of the rebels would be given a choice: To stand by their generals and the cause they were fighting for, or remember their old oath to Hitler; one they swore to uphold until the day Hitler died.

There was no other way around it anymore. No more subterfuge would be able to hold the situation together. Halid'Zorah's grand plan on slipping onto Earth with as little trouble or resistance had gone to hell and now the only way that it could be solved was through direct military intervention. Direct military intervention meant that the first impressions of quariankind to the humans would be violence.

There was no other option anymore. What was about to happen was the inevitable end game to Otto Skorzeny's gambit…

"Sir… we've intercepted a Europe wide broadcast," the communication officer addressed him. "The announcer is saying it's him."

Alaan did not reply as the officer activated the signal from Earth.

 _"-It is my distinct pleasure to be the man who hands the broadcast over to the unconquerable, to the unbreakable, to our glorious Führer!"_

The entire bridge crew of the Kareon fell into absolute silence. Alaan looked over his shoulder and found his wife standing there behind him. Galina's eyes were swollen from her tears for both Hanala and Saleb. Both were fine for the most part in Joachim's care once again, but that did not the agony they both held at the thought of them in the hands of violent Nazis for several hours.

Alaan reached out and offered his hand to his wife. As Galina stepped forward and took it. The dead air left by the Nazi radio announcer came back to life.

 _"My fellow Germans!"_ Hitler's voice erupted across the airways. _"Yet another of the countless attempts on my life has been planned and carried out. This time, the attempt on my life came not in the form of an assassin's bomb or bullet, but my political life which lives solely to serves you. It came in the form of an abduction which has lasted for these many months. I am speaking to you for two reasons:_

 _First, so that you can hear my voice and know that I myself am neither dead or injured and in fact quite well._

 _Second, So that you can hear the details of a crime without parallel in German history."_

Smiling reassuringly to his wife, Alaan let go of her hand and activated his omni-tool.

 _"A very small clique of ambitious, unscrupulous, criminal and stupid officers formed a conspiracy to do away with me and at the same time to wipe out virtually any chance we have at prevailing in this conflict. They have virtually taken out the entire staff of our government. Party Comrade, Göring, Party Comrade Goebbels... so many more have been lost in order to keep up this great deception…_

 _The plan on their traitorous minds was audacious and vile. Under the guise of protection, they planted the treacherous Oberst Joachim Hoch in my protection details. When I was at my most vulnerable, he drugged me and smuggled me out of Germany and into the hands of the rebels. To cover the deception, the traitorous Heinz Guderian launched an attack on my headquarters. This attacked served as one reason: to cover up my abduction and report it instead as a death. My death being the only way to convince the common soldier to follow along with their leader's plans to usurp what remained of the National Socialist movement which has valiantly held up the struggle. The attack took the lives of dozens of good, loyal Comrades to our Reich._

 _My freedom was obtained to me by a familiar name to all the people of Germany: newly promoted Obersturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny. For months he planned out my flight to freedom. Organizing a team of thirty-five men, he moved out two days ago and laid siege on my prison Eastern Austria. Eight men of the thirty-five who snatched me from the hands of the enemy lost their lives in the process. I offer my prayers and condolences to those who they left behind. Their sacrifice has assured our Reich's survival. Like Horst Wessel and the fallen heroes of our struggle, they too will be the rallying cry to our victory over our many enemies…"_

The _Kareon_ bridge holoprojector activated to life. Standing on the pad were Captain's Falaez'Utara vas Kalterin and Malu'Canar vas Jalu'Tanerk. They were the commanding officers to the Heavy Fleet Vanguard stationed on the far side of Luna. Both of the Captains appeared somewhat curious.

 _"Admiral Jarva, it appears someone has activated an orbital bombardment beacon on the planet, more specifically inside the Italian mountain range,"_ Malu'Canar spoke crisply, her voice devoid of emotion. _"Please confirm if this is a valid strike order."_

Alaan stood up from his seat. Taking a deep breath, he inclined his head.

"I have ordered the strike. I am initiating all hands to battle stations," he informed his subordinates. "I want the entirety of the Heavy Fleet over Earth in thirty minutes. The vanguard behind Luna is to move into attack position over the relay right now."

Malu'Canar and Falaez'Utara looked at each other. Both of them were professionals handpicked by Alaan to join the Heavy Fleet in a leadership capacity. They could not help but question Alaan's reasoning. An orbital strike on Hitler was the equivalent of using an explosive on a germ.

 _"Sir, might I remind you that the humans are primitive but not that primitive?"_ Falaez replied on behalf of them. _"Surely some of them have optical and radio telescopes that can detect us within their orbit."_

"I am aware of that, but secrecy is no longer our concern. No more hiding in the shadows. It's time we take our first public footsteps on our new home," Alaan replied, ignoring the wide eyed stares of his crew "In order to show we belong, a display of strength must be shown. It's all this race seems to understand at the moment."

As the two Captains gave their affirmatives, Alaan turned to the navigational and flight crews.

"Put us in close orbit to Earth, six thousand kilometres."

 _"-With their failure to keep me in a cage, I interpret this as confirmation that Providence wishes me to continue my life's mission as I have in the past. For I can solemnly state in the presence of the entire nation that since the day I moved into the East Prussia to oversee our struggle against Jewish-Bolshevism and the western Plutocracies, my sole thought has been to carry out my duty to the best of my ability. And from the time when I realized that the war was unavoidable and could no longer be delayed, I have known nothing but worry and hard work; and for countless days and sleepless nights have lived only for my People!_

 _At the very moment when the Wehrmacht are engaged in a most difficult struggle, a small group formed in Germany. Leading grand armies, these foolish Generals thought that as in 1918 it could now deliver the stab in the back. However, this time they totally miscalculated. The claim by these usurpers that I am no longer alive is at this very moment proven false, for here I am talking to you, my dear fellow countrymen. The circle which these usurpers represent is very small. It has nothing to do with Wehrmacht, and above all nothing to do with the Heer, which has instigated the civil war through no fault but to the generals. It is a very small clique composed of criminal elements which will now be mercilessly exterminated. I therefore give the following orders with immediate effect:_

 _First, that no civilian agency is to obey an order from a government agency which these usurpers claim that they command._

 _Second, that no military installation, no commander of a unit, no soldier is to obey any order by these usurpers. On the contrary, any person conveying or issuing such an order is to be immediately arrested or, if they resist, shot on the spot._

 _Third, I recall all elements of the Waffen-SS to return to the Fatherland and take the battle against rebellion should they refuse to disarm, surrender and return to the front."_

As the _Kareon_ lurched to a halt, now even closer to Earth than it had ever been before, the command display screen activated to life. On the split view screens were the two dozen Dreadnought and Cruiser captains, all members of the Vanguard. All of them leery at what was unfolding.

 _"Admiral, we are over the position, what are your orders?"_

Alaan did not pay attention at first to the monitor holding the faces of his many captains waiting for his directive. He wandered past to the firing station and leaned over the terminal. If he was going to order an orbital strike, at the very least it should be he who fired the salvo from the Kareon.

"Arm your primary armaments and prepare to fire on the beacon," he finally gave the order to his crew and captains.

The bridges of the two dozen ships now only six thousand kilometres from Earth exploded into a flurry of action as they went into battle stations.

 _"In order to restore complete order, I have appointed Reichsführer Himmler to be Commander of the Home Forces. I have drafted into the General Model to replace the Chief of the General Staff, and have appointed a second proven leader from the Eastern Front to be his aide._

 _In all the other agencies of government within the Reich everything remains unchanged. I am convinced that with the departure of this small clique of traitors and conspirators, we will finally create the atmosphere here at home, too, which the soldiers at the front need. For it is intolerable that at the front hundreds of thousands and millions of brave men are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, while here at home a small clique of ambitious, despicable creatures constantly tries to undermine this attitude by waging a bloody civil war in their homes. Their wanton destruction of German cities displays their cold contempt for the people the vowed to defend._

 _This time we will settle accounts as we National Socialists are accustomed to. I am convinced that at this time every decent officer, every honest soldier will understand that. They will ignore the calls of their leaders and return back to the Reich they defended all these years…"_

A hand tapped Alaan on the shoulder. It was the ship communication officer. Alaan attempted to hide his personal embarrassment. He was almost… enraptured by Hitler's orator skills.

He could not help but admire the sheer display of resolve, his rising and fall tone. It was becoming clearer and clearer why the megalomaniac gained so much power so quickly. It was as though he was Germany's collective Father in a way; a voice of cool rationale and almost empathy, even to the many hundreds of thousands of men who were essentially tricked into following their generals. It made what was about to happen all the more necessary. It would be perhaps minutes, hours at best before the armies in control of the rebels deserted or turned on the conspirators.

"All ships checked in, sir, waiting on your orders," said the disgraced Captain Halios.

Giving his head a metaphorical shake as if to erase the slippery words Hitler spoke to the Reich from his mind, Alaan nodded to the junior officer. His finger hovering over the firing controls.

 _"Few people can begin to imagine the fate which would have overtaken Germany had the abduction attempt completely succeeded. I myself thank Providence and my Creator not for preserving me - my life consists only of worry and work for my People - I thank him only for allowing me to continue to bear this burden of worry, and to carry on my work to the best of my ability."_

 _It is the duty of every German without exception to ruthlessly oppose these elements, and either to arrest them immediately or, if they resist arrest, to shoot them on the spot. These orders have been issued to all military units. They will be carried out to the letter with the discipline typical of the Wehrmacht._

 _Once again I take this opportunity, my old comrades in arms, to greet you, joyful that I have once again been spared a fate which, while it held no terror for me personally, would have had terrible consequences for the German People. I interpret this as a sign from Providence that I must continue my work, and therefore I shall continue in that effort-"_

 **"FIRE!"** Alaan screamed to his captains as he fired the Kareon's main armaments.

There was no loud bang, no fanciful noise caused by the weapon. The explosion of fifty pound shells launched at fifteen percent of light of light was silenced by space but in that fraction of a fraction of a second it took for the two dozen shells to reach the planet was absolutely devastating on Earth. It had the force of a large nuclear explosion roughly eight hundred megatons.

The mountain itself was literally vaporized off the face of the planet.

Alaan'Jarva slumped into the seat of Captain's chair as the battered bridge crew stared in silence as they realized what they had done. No longer was Earth would be the same. Everyone in Europe had to have felt and heard that unnatural explosion. In a matter of minutes the quarian people would be drawn into the Earth conflict officially. That meant cruisers and dreadnoughts over Europe defending key cities in Germany and under German administration. It meant for the first time in decades quarian military assets involved in a conventional war.

Alaan felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up and found his wife standing there, her expression equally as grim as the static of Hitler's broadcast vanished and was replaced by frantic German radio chatter, explaining away the situation as a faulty transmitter that cut Hitler off.

"Come," she softly pleaded him. "Let's… let's check in on Saleb and Hanala."

Knowing he had very little left to do here, he nodded and pulled himself out of the seat. He pushed by the bloodied Daer'Halios, who was stunned that her rescue attempt of one of her own resulted in over nine hundred megaton explosion against the dictator of the Third Reich. He however paused. He had a few final instructions to make.

Squeezing his wife's hand for a moment, Alaan stepped back into the communication centre where the captains of his Heavy Fleet were watching the destruction they sowed in horror. They were professional naval officers. They were cool and professional when it came to engaging an enemy in space, but it was quite another thing to engage in orbital bombardment on a technologically inferior people.

"Dreadnoughts _Kalterin_ and _Jalu'Tanerk_ , I want your ships in geostationary orbit over Washington DC and London; I am sending coordinates now," the Admiral told the two captains. "Prepare for a descent into the atmosphere on my order. We'll try to limit this action to a show of force. Have Zorah's Special Forces battalion ready for a hard landing into Berlin!"

Receiving affirmatives from the two captains and watching them disconnect from the feed, Alaan turned back to face Captain Halios for the briefest of moments. His anger for her foul up had somewhat dissipated. She would be dealt with when the time was right. Until then she was still someone he could use.

Silently Alaan joined his wife. For now all that mattered was preparing to force the west to bend to their will with as little bloodshed as possible.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, deleted two scenes that were wholly unnecessary.**


	20. The Warning

**Chapter Twenty: The Warning**

 **…**

It was the dawning of a new era for humanity. Whether humanity was ready for it would be a whole different matter altogether.

The explosion that vaporized Mount Ortler could be heard as far away as Greenland, windows shattered as far away as Paris. It wasn't long until the whole world knew what had happened. The question that likely went whispered across the globe was _'will it happen again?'_

Well it would, as Alaan'Jarva reckoned. Humans were stone cold stupid when caught up in a war. If they did not heed the German's offer of peace, it would ultimately require a second attack from the Vanguard Taskforce before the leadership of the Allies would get their collective heads out of their asses. It would be up to him to choose the next target. Likely someone in the spread out and isolated United States. Hitting New York would be a real eye opener, and a means to show the virtually untouched United States what bombardment was like.

Of course, he would never do that. Too many millions of lives killed for a strategically negligible city would give the impression of his species being cruel and unforgiving. If he wanted to hit a city it would have been Detroit, the beating heart of the American war effort. One strike and America's war making capability would mean it would have to cut aid for the Soviets and leave the European Front altogether to focus on the Japanese. Peace through superior firepower was still peace that Alaan was comfortable attaining. Niceties could come later.

There were thirty other targets he found himself adamant in hitting over the immediate dangers Detroit displayed. Those sights, such as the Hanford site in Washington State and Los Alamos, New Mexico held the combined nuclear secrets of the Allies. A simultaneous strike would set them back by years, decades if they were foolish enough to keep their records solely in the facilities. Humanity could not be permitted to split the atom in a state of war. All they would see was the destructive capability and would work at high speed to attain nuclear based ordinances. When they were mature enough to understand the responsibility of nuclear weapon ownership required, then perhaps one day, but not yet.

This of course would depend on what happened over the next week. As he sat alone in his study, drinking heavily and listening to his wife as she frantically spoke to Joachim, Saleb and occasionally Hanala, he knew that the Wehrmacht was reaching out to the Allies, offering them a chance to make peace now that Hitler was gone. If not then it would be up to him to further instil the wraith of quarian technological superiority onto the west.

Alaan sighed as he proposed a personal toast. He could only hope that the Allies would have enough sense to see their continued struggle in the European campaign was futile. Otherwise many of blameless men, woman and children would have to pay for their stubbornness.

…

…

"Keep up, Saleb, You've got those springy legs and you're younger than me. You should be faster than I!"

"I am… faster than you, monkey! I'm tired and just feel so much heavier! I can't keep up!"

Joachim turned around. Saleb was indeed lagging far behind him. She was admirably determined to keep up with him, but she was clearly out of shape despite her apparent following of his exercise regimen. It appeared that life on board a ship would make it hard for her initial adaptation to life on a planet. Still, at least she was willing to try. There were other mitigating circumstances of course. She was wearing about fifteen pounds of thick fabric, rubber and steel and he remembered Hanala explaining to him that Rannoch was fifteen percent lighter gravity, and as such the fleet was set to that.

Shifting a rucksack containing a sterilized water canister, food tubes for her and a lunch for himself should they get hungry, Joachim backtracked his steps until he was down with the panting quarian girl. He turned his back and squatted down onto his knees.

"It's not too far now," he addressed her as he turned his head to one side. "Climb on, I'll carry you."

Saleb looked at him as though he was demented. Still, between a high slope and a chance to rest her legs, Saleb knew better then to turn down the offer. She climbed up his back and wrapped her legs around his waist as her arms squeezed his neck. Choking for a moment, Joachim repositioned her arms underneath his armpits and stood up. The sudden elevation and movement made Saleb chirp happily.

As they hit the top of the hill, a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over Hoch as the trees and grounds leading to the medium sized pond on the top of the hill. The area had no name, and if it did, it mattered little to Joachim in his youth, or even now. It was just a quiet vista that he used to flee to before he was a teenager.

It gave him a chance to forget everything… At least for the next few hours…

As Joachim stopped the moment the hill levelled out, Saleb took it as a cue and slid down his back until she was standing next to him. He could not tell her facial expression really. All he could go on was her bright eyes widening and her head tilted to one side.

"I used to come here when I was your age," he informed her softly. "I came here to get away from my family, to swim in fresh water rather than the ocean. It was… nice…"

Saleb did not reply, so Joachim offered her his hand. She took it and together they pushed through the marsh trees until they were close to the edge of the water. As he let go of her hand he sat unceremoniously down, his back pressed against a blooming willow tree trunk.

As Saleb turned away from the pond and glanced at the tree in near amazement as her fingers traced along the bark of the weeping willow. Joachim found himself realizing just how little in the way of plant life the fleet held. Once again this was a new experience for the girl. Imitating Joachim to the end, she turned and allowed gravity to overtake her. She fell on her backside with a gasp and a laugh just as Joachim was breaking out his cigarettes. Realizing the girl was too tired to wander off and look around, he put his cigarettes right away.

With his attention focused on the child next to him, a sudden explosion hit the water and caught him completely. Joachim nearly jumped up and shielded Saleb, but within seconds several Ducks came back up to the surface, their wings flapping and quacking like damn fools. Joachim groaned and rubbed his face, his heart pounding hard. He had been startled by birds of all things…

Saleb was a totally different reaction. She nearly squealed as she watched the birds preen and swim in circles.

 _"What are those!?"_ she asked breathlessly.

Joachim could not help but chuckle at her childlike innocence returning to her, even if it was for these few moments. Between the losses she was still hurting from and the horror of being in close proximity with the man who killed her Father and many others in order to free Hitler, it was nice that she could have a moment where she was allowed to be a child once again.

If only Hanala could be there to see it. He doubted very much she witnessed Saleb happy like this since she assumed a guardianship over Saleb. It had to have been a heavy burden on her stumbling in the dark with a grieving child…

"Those are birds… mallards to be exact," Joachim spoke as he reached into his rucksack. "The colourful ones are males, the brown ones female."

He removed the waxed paper covering thick slice of plain rye bread. He tore a fair chunk off and tapped Saleb on the shoulder. It took another tap in order to pry her attention away from the scene unfolding in front of her.

"Here," he said as he offered her the food. "Break this up and toss it for them."

Saleb looked at the bread for a moment, and then took it from him. Carefully she ripped the bread into fine pieces and sliding on her knees she crawled down to the edge of the pond. With all her might, she threw a handful of crumbs into the water only a few feet away from her. She watched with amazement as the small raft of ducks propelled themselves through the water and towards her, quacking like idiots. Saleb screeched as water splashed her and flew back so far she landed on Joachim's feet.

He could not help himself, he laughed at Saleb's state. Water dripping off the suit, her legs and feet covered in mud. The girl likely never had a filthy day in her life. Cooped up, playing her electrical games was not how a child should live.

Saleb turned her helmeted head back as she forced herself to stand up.

"I saw animals of Rannoch on the extranet one time," she chirped happily. "They look strange and ugly. Earth animals are cuter... less lizardy lookin'."

Joachim chuckled as he took a bite of his bread.

"Same goes for humans and quarians," he replied as soon as he swallowed. "Quarians are strange and ugly and humans are… cute."

Saleb's wide, happy eyes turned into narrow slits at Joachim's humorously intended sleight. It had to have been an expression inherited by her Father. He saw the same look from Hanala every time he opened his mouth and said something that contradicted her. Huffing and muttering, Saleb turned her attention back to the birds swimming in circles.

As she threw another handful, Joachim stood up and made his way down to join her. He remained silent as he tentatively rested his hand on her shoulder. He wasn't sure if they were there yet: physical contact, and all that, but he had to be the one to try. She did not seem to mind it as she threw another handful to the Ducks.

"I heard my Father talking to my Mother once," Saleb suddenly spoke as her little hands worked to break up more bread. "Father said that one day humans will be taking Rannoch away from the geth. Is that true? Are you going to destroy the robot monsters?"

Joachim had to admit that the question caught him off guard. It was not that she asked it, it was how early she asked it. Despite every horrible thing she had endured, Saleb was still just a child. Interspecies politics should have been the last thing on her mind at the moment.

"It certainly seems that way," Joachim confirmed for her. "Not now, of course, and not for quite a long time but it is the goal; our numbers, your technology."

As Saleb threw more crumbs, she nodded. She still did not look up at him.

"I hope you destroy them all," she spoke. She paused and waited for be admonished for using a Keelah curse phrase. When Joachim offered no anger, she added. "They do nothing but kill people. Great Grandmother Jalina used to cry over it on occasion. So did Grandmother."

Joachim remained silent this time. Jalina'Calis, like the rest of the one percent of quarians that survived the systematic extermination, had lost everyone, and eventually her sons to the machine menace so it was understandable why the woman spent her life mourning and seeking out new means to correct the wrongs her generation had committed. Well, one way or another, her wishes were being fulfilled. It would be decades, but the upcoming galactic wide war would soon engulf the Perseus Veil and any other alien species that dared to cross their path on the Grand Crusade.

"I met the human who killed Father," Saleb continued her serious tone. "He said it was his duty to take my Father away."

Joachim stiffened at the statement the child spoke. Duty… that same old odious concept that gave men the dubious right to take lives from other men who were taught the exact same thing; Of course that was what Skorzeny would tell her. And ultimately he was right. Duty could nearly justify every repulsive act Germany stained herself with by following Hitler's vision these past ten years.

Clenching his mouth, Joachim looked to his side. The child was not looking at him. She was still focused on the ducks bathing and waiting for her to throw more scraps to them. As soon as she threw the last of the bread, Saleb turned to face him. Her narrowed eyes demanded an answer from him.

He would not sugar coat this for her. He would not soften the blow for the sake of her. There were things that needed to be said and explained to her. This was something that Hanala could never be able to do. It was not Hanala's fault or anything. Despite her image of being a tough woman in the same vein as her Mother and Grandmother before her, she was a nurturer at heart. She wanted to be like him, but she was really just Lene Langer.

"Unfortunately that's the way being a soldier works," Joachim returned, sick that he had to agree with Skorzeny. "To him and those he serves, your Father represented a threat to their lives."

The child continued to stare at him accusingly; as though Joachim was sympathizing with Skorzeny's role in the death of her Father. Naturally he didn't, but Saleb was not at all satisfied with the explanation he offered.

"Father wasn't like you."

Joachim nodded.

"He may not have gone to war, but he was a military man nonetheless," he told the defiantly stubborn little girl. "Your fleet is not just for living in. They went to war in the times before you were bor-"

"A soldier killed my Mother," Saleb cut across him, crossing her arms.

Joachim felt the dull pain in his gut whenever he remembered the crimes Gerald Langer committed in his last hours. Here he was speaking to one of his victims. She was a child who still did not have all the answers which she deserved, no matter how young she may have been.

"Yes… yes he did, but that was not simple, Saleb," he rumbled back to her. "He was a good man put in a bad position."

Joachim instantly recoiled as he realized he had knee-jerking desire to defend Gerald had been spewed out to Saleb. He had just defended the man who murdered her Mother. He would be lucky if the girl didn't sterilize him with a punch or a kick.

" _He was good?"_ She breathed disbelievingly. **"HE KILLED MY MOTHER, HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT!"**

Her screams were an alien gibberish to the outside world. It spooked the raft of Ducks, who flew out of the water and high off into the sky. Saleb paid it no attention as she glared dangerously at Joachim, her small hands formed into fists.

That was when Joachim did something he hadn't done in quite some time. He bent down onto one knee and pulled the angry Saleb into a one-sided hug. He felt her stiffen up, but he did not lose his confidence in thinking it was the right thing to do. So quietly, he held her close against his chest.

It wasn't possessive, or anything either. At any point the child possessed the ability to push him away and continue to scream. But she didn't, Instead her fists relaxed. Slowly, shyly her arms reached out and held tightly onto his shoulders. Saleb did not cry, in fact the only noise that came from her was a gasp –the sort of noise that occurred when one was attempting to keep her crying on the inside. It was clear to Joachim that Saleb was not comfortable being that vulnerable around him… and that was alright by him. It was up to her to decide just how personal their relationship could be. All he could do was prod and take small steps.

As Joachim pulled back slightly, he found that Saleb was unwilling to move. Perhaps that was a good sign…

"I want to show you something," Joachim spoke, his chin resting on the top of her hooded helmet. "I'm going to do something that I don't think you've ever been exposed to: I'm going to talk to you like an adult on equal footing."

Underneath his chin, he felt Saleb's head tilt up and to the side. Joachim pulled his head back and looked into the eyes of the curious child.

"What we talk about in these sorts of conversations are only between the two of us," Joachim continued, his voice growing firmer as though to stress his point. "We will share our secrets and fears and we will never bring them up to anyone but each other. Not to your friends, not to your grandparents-"

"What about Auntie Hanala?" Saleb interrupted him, her voice suspicious that they would be leaving her out.

Joachim could not help but chuckle softly as he nodded.

"Auntie Hanala will be included once she is feeling better but for now just us, understood?"

Pulling her arms off of his shoulders, Saleb stepped back, leaving Joachim strangely… disappointed in the absence she left. Silently he watched her nod. With an agreement formed, Joachim stood up straight and returned back to the trunk of the Willow and sat down, Saleb following his lead very closely.

As she sat, Joachim reached into his jacket pocket and removed his wallet. He extended it out to Saleb. The child stared at the chunk of crafted leather being handed to her. Slowly she reached out and her spindly fingers held it out like it was infested with something disgusting. Huffing and shaking his head, he took the wallet back and instead pulled the only picture he held in it and handed it to the child.

"This is Gerald Langer, Saleb," he informed the staring child, looking at the family portrait shot in 1940, his finger touching against the patriarch's chest. "Next to him are his wife Lene and their children Helena, Frieda, Hilde, Peter, Wilhelm and Geli. My… family I suppose."

Saleb looked up and met him in the eye.

"Where were you?" she asked him softly as he turned and held his eyes on the picture.

"I was in France, fighting those _fucking_ French bastards."

Joachim mentally slapped himself for his offhanded comment. Not so much that he was trying to find peace with the Frenchmen, but more for her sake. Thankfully the child did not seem to understand absolutely anything he said. He shook his head and privately doubled his efforts to stem his language around the child.

"My real Father was an alcoholic degenerate hypocrite and was not shy in hurting my real Mother and I... like how I hurt Auntie Hanala… only no one was capable to fight back. He died when I was about your age," he pressed on as he watched Saleb tilt her head. "When I was older, Gerald was the closest man I had to a Father; Lene too eventually became like a surrogate mother. Lene… She was mouthy and hilarious just like your Auntie Hanala…"

Joachim could not help himself, he laughed as his memories recalled the pushy, opinionated woman he once knew.

He didn't want to tell this story if he was being honest with himself. Every day he more or less told it to himself, and god knows how many times he spoke about what happened to other people. But this was someone altogether different. If there was one person on the world who deserved to know the sort of man Gerald Langer was and just how close Joachim was to him, it would be the most prominent victim to Gerald's desperation: Saleb.

"Believe it or not, he was a good man who did not wake up that day with the intention of killing your mother," Joachim spoke again, lowering his tone as he nervously watched the reaction to the girl. "If circumstances were different, Gerald Langer would have defended your Mother with his very life. But life rarely works out to be that fortunate…"

He fell silent as he watched Saleb lower her helmet until the mouthpiece grazed against her pulled up knees.

"Then why would he do it?" Saleb asked without turning to look. "Why would he kill my Mother? What did she do to him?"

 _Nothing_ … Veyare'Jarva was simply a victim of circumstances. She died without rhyme or reason.

"Behind Skorzeny – the man who killed your Father- is an even worse man named Reinhard Heydrich," Joachim pressed on, his information peaking Saleb's interest once again. "He gave Skorzeny the order to attack your Father; he took Gerald's family in order to make him kill me. Heydrich is talented in the art of making men commit terrible acts."

There was no reply. Saleb remained still and silent. She appeared rightfully horrified by the deeds of Reinhard Heydrich. This was the sort thing which Joachim wanted to spare her until she was older; but it was clear now that the girl was old enough, mature enough and angry enough to at least receive the basics of who the bastards were.

"In the end it was all for nothing, Saleb. Long before Gerald killed your Mother, before I killed Gerald, Heydrich destroyed his entire life. Each and every one in that picture… gone," he continued as he took the picture from her fingers and tucked it back into his wallet. "There was nothing to be gained from putting Gerald in that position other than to punish him for loving me… and because of that… you had to suffer as well…"

Deciding not to elaborate any further at the risk of further hurting her, Joachim turned away from the girl and focused on the pond, where the Ducks had made their tentative return back to the waters. As he rested his head against the tree trunk, he felt Saleb's gloved hand reach out and take his.

 _"I wish there were no soldiers,"_ she murmured to him.

Joachim nodded and sadly smiled.

"So do I, Saleb…" he agreed.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Ernst Kaltenbrunner remained in a reverent silence.

Out of respect to his friend, he kept his distance and his head bowed as Otto Skorzeny sat next to Emmi lifeless body in the back of the truck speeding west, now only sixteen kilometres outside of Kiel. One hand clutched onto hers tightly, the other running over her battered face, beaten post mortem, all of this to hold the illusion that it was Heydrich who committed this vile act.

Although he might have regretted it, ultimately Ernst had to do this for the state of everything that would unfold. Skorzeny was a soldier without a leader or cause to fight for anymore. Where else could the man go or do? He was hardly a Father, he abhorred his mechanical trade; in the end was a soldier, and one who was able to not only boast, do great deeds to back it up. He could change the world. Anything less would have been an absolute waste. And if there was one thing Kaltenbrunner could not stand, it was waste.

There was a soft moan that broke Skorzeny's attention on his wife for a moment. It was little Waltraut, she was struggling to breathe as Skorzeny's commando medic Karl Wentz was keeping her airway clear. The rope Ernst tightened around her neck while she was sedated had bruised her trachea. The rope mark was brutal. One that would likely never vanish off her skin…

Skorzeny looked like he wanted nothing more than to resume a Fatherly role and be by his child's side, but Wentz told Skorzeny not to interfere. The child was still heavily drugged and his affections for her might get in the way. It likely took all Otto's efforts not to break his throat for being denied time with his child.

"There is one thing I do not get," Skorzeny finally spoke, his voice gravelly and hallowed as he turned back to his wife. "Why were you going after Himmler in the first place?"

Flicking his cigarette out of the back of the truck, Ernst turned around and took a seat next to Otto.

"At first I intended on killing him; he and Heydrich had to be removed if we were to have any sort of post-National Socialist future," Ernst replied, forcing his voice to be choked up. "When I heard of your task, that you intended on gassing the quarians, I decided to alter the plan. That's how I stumbled on to the… you know… the kill order…"

The kill order… the opportunity Kaltenbrunner just had to take advantage of; one example of certified evidence and he assured Skorzeny's loyalty to him. Heydrich would never be able to tell Skorzeny the truth. Not when Skorzeny knew what Heydrich had done to other SS and Wehrmacht officer's families in the early days of the Civil War. So between Kaltenbrunner's goading of Heydrich into committing mass murder against the traitors such as Rommel and Hoch as well as Skorzeny's blind loyalty, it all but assured the death of Heydrich. Ernst was nearly free to pursue his next phase… all it would take now would be one final effort.

And that was to secure the trust of the quarians and the Wehrmacht.

Both parties almost undoubtedly found Kaltenbrunner repulsive, but they weren't stupid, either. They wouldn't throw away an asset that has proven his worth. They would need a man like him somewhere out there quietly smoothing their transition of power away from the plutocratic United States and England. It would be up to him to fracture the empires and their invisible grip on minor nations. He would break up their ultimate goal: The Jewish-Bolshevik - Plutocracy union and the vile globalization of the Earth.

 _"I buried the poison gas."_

Ernst looked up from Emmi's legs and towards Skorzeny with widened eyes at the statement. Otto was staring back at him, his eyes blurry and red. He had been silently crying.

It was a remarkable restraint he possessed. Kaltenbrunner was surprised he hadn't displayed how he felt the moment he held Emmi's body in his arms. The man was surprisingly in love with her. He did not keep mistresses, which was insane, he called her whenever he could... it just did not make sense to Kaltenbrunner. Wives were an expectation for a continuation of the blood line. Staying faithful was a waste.

"I did not want my legacy to be one of which as a man who poisoned hundreds of civilian aliens," Skorzeny elaborated at a slow, deliberate pace, as though he was worried Kaltenbrunner would have been upset. "So I locked up the experts and buried the gas."

Ernst attempted to not roll his eyes at the comment. Once again this was Skorzeny's foolish nobility talking. At least this time he did the right thing. If he had gassed the quarians, it would be remarkably more difficult to negotiate with them for his clemency. Perhaps on occasion he would allow Otto to follow what he felt was right. Sometimes showing restraint would result in less blowback in the future.

"I wanted to save the Führer, but I was not prepared to go that far…" he continued in almost a hoarse daze. "Still… all that death I inflicted by conventional firepower… and for _what_? Thirteen hours later, the quarians buried him under a mountain. That bastard Alaan'Jarva… he _tricked_ me…"

Ernst could not help but chuckle. While he knew that the quarians would track and kill Hitler within days of his escape, he hadn't expected that Alaan'Jarva would be able to deceive Skorzeny and then turn an entire Italian Alp into a fucking parking lot just to kill Hitler. He was under the impression that quarians were as tricky as the kikes.

"Well, they will be getting an earful when the smoke settles," Ernst replied as he went for his cigarettes. "I have it on good authority from Karl Wolff that they killed forty thousand or so Italian unarmed men and women in the attack."

Otto stared at him and then snorted.

 _"Hypocrites,"_ he growled lowly.

Wrapping his wife back up inside of her white sheet, Otto leaned backwards against the canopy, rubbing his eyes and he stared miserably at his child, moaning and rasping painfully.

"Our next move is to return back to Kiel. I've contacted Gerd von Rundstedt. He's setting up a meeting with Halid'Zorah," Ernst addressed the commando. He smirked as he added. "I know what you did to him, and I applaud it, but Zorah is a glorified whore. He'll forgive your actions in order to jump at the opportunity to have Himmler trialed and Heydrich killed."

Still Skorzeny did not appear interested in details at the moment. He was too busy changing the bandaging covering the side of his forehead. It was a brutal looking wound that was stitched loosely together. Ernst had heard that that quarian bitch, the Jarva spawn of Satan had been the culprit.

"The real question is: are you going to be able to work with Joachim Hoch…" Ernst continued as he crossed one leg over the other. "The piece of shit deserves to die, but we can't deny his recent talent for hunting and killing men would aid you."

Skorzeny grunted as he finished taping his head back up.

"To kill Heydrich, I would work with the _Devil_ himself to do it," he growled as he settled back into his seat. "I read the casualty reports he inflicted on Heydrich's circle during my prep for Elba. That degenerate will be adequate."

Satisfied that Skorzeny's personal malice for Hoch could be set aside for a common goal, Ernst relaxed somewhat. Once again he fell silent as he watched Otto hold his wife's hand.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Silently sipping his coffee as he watched President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill shake hands and converse to one another as well from George Marshall to Bomber Harris and an assortment of other officers from the many different service branches, William J. Donovan felt the familiar lurch catch him in the gut. Each of the high rank military and politicians were holding his dossier on the argument for peace with Germany. His private pondering was now on official record.

He glanced over to his colleague, William Stephenson, the crafty Canadian spymaster. He too looked disturbed, but confident that the bosses would see things their way. Together they were clearly the only men in the room who knew that the War in Europe was over. The continuation of the campaign would be pointless now that Hitler was dead and the Germans had been making careful approaches to the west.

It was clear to Donovan that the Germans did not do this lightly. The last thing a Prussian powerbase ever wanted to do was appear weak in front of the enemy. So what Donovan gathered was more or less inference on the enemy's mindset. It was clear to him that they were desperate. They did not fear the ground war waging in the North African desert or even the potential for their U-boat campaign to go south. They feared two things: the air force and the Soviet war the late Adolf Hitler attacked.

Whatever the case, peace was going to be a hard sell to make to the leaders of the Allied Powers. They had made their assurances to not only their people, but to the Soviets that there would be no peace with the Germans until they capitulated and surrendered unconditionally.

"So Bill, do we have any clue to the size of the explosion that ended the life of Mister Hitler far too soon?"

The wizened voice came from President Roosevelt, who was limping precariously towards the loveseat nearest him. The room chuckled at his bleak eulogy for the Dictator. Smiling, he waved off the alcoholic drink one of Churchill's orderlies was offering him.

"It was large enough to level out an entire mountain," Donovan returned to the attentive room. "According to our boys in Los Alamo, they believe it dwarfed anything they predict the Manhattan Project will be."

"Do they believe it was atomic in origin?" Churchill spoke before Roosevelt. "I was under the impression that Hitler's policies all but assured nuclear possession delayed for another decade."

"They're convinced it was a conventional explosion. The Telemark operation set back their atomic ambitions by years, if they were even ever were that serious about atomic weapon production," Donovan replied to the Prime Minister. "The only other theory was an intelligence coup: Wilhelm Canaris might have gotten a hold of Himmler's plans to establish a stronghold and infiltrated the work with workers who planted tons of explosives over a matter of months. The initial explosion might have set off a chain reaction which caused a seismic event which collapsed Ortler."

Churchill appeared quizzical at the hypothesis, but he did not speak. Instead it was George Marshall whom arched his brow at the hypothesis the OSS head suggested.

"That's hard to swallow," Marshall pointed out, his voice gravelly as crossed his arms. "I just don't see how German engineers could smuggle that much high explosive into a mountain fortress to make Ortler disappear."

Opening his briefcase, he pulled a rather large stack of papers. On paper were teletype messages from the many leading Generals of the Wehrmacht and what remained of the civilian government. The civilian government was still Nazi controlled of course, but they lacked the capacity to fight back. Many of their messages seemed almost coerced even.

"With all due respect, I have been awake for 36 hours reading each and every request for a formal sit down the Germans have been sending, which your collective diplomatic services have been ignoring," "I am working on limited information with regards to the attack. But peace is what I am primarily interested in."

Clearing his throat, Bill chose the one message of peace that he found most interesting.

 _"To: Allied Command, From: Oberkommando der Wehrmacht..."_ Donovan read to the room _"Hitler is dead. Your objective has been fulfilled for you. Make peace, or we'll direct the next tools in our arsenal at you…. Signed, Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt Chief, Oberkommando der Wehrmacht…"_

As Donovan folded the communiqué, Winston Churchill exhaled a mouthful of cigar smoke.

"Say what you will about him, at least he isn't pandering to good manners," he mused to the gathering. "Such is the nature of the noble East Prussian Junker officer."

Again the room chuckled at the expense of the Germans. Even Roosevelt, who appeared somewhat exhausted, managed to crack half a smile. The war must have been hanging heavily on him. Of all the men in the room, he must have been the one who would be most open to a peace.

"It's a bluff. It has to be," Arthur Harris addressed the head of the OSS. "There is no way the Germans have the industrial capability or means to sustain that sort of show of force. The Germans are barely holding on as it is. I predict total economic collapse by the end of 1943 to the beginning of 1944."

Donovan's nostrils flared as he tried to forget his growing antipathy for the British.

"With all due respect, Air Chief Marshal, you're underestimating the threat the Germans present and overestimating your bombing campaign," Donovan retorted. He turned to Roosevelt and added. "Mr. President, I told your worst case scenario. Rundstedt was untouchable the moment he entered Germany and now that the Nazis have lost almost total control of Germany's war to the far deadlier menace."

He held up his hand as Marshall attempted to get him to elaborate for the fiftieth time what that meant, adding. "I have addressed this matter in the dossier I have prepared in regards to the resurgent German Empire. The point is this is not the same Germany we have gone to war with. This is a Germany we can make a deal with, but our window of opportunity is collapsing quickly."

Next to him, William Stephenson stood up. Donovan was thankful that his colleague had decided to step in.

"Mr. President, Prime Minister here's the situation: Rommel has already approached Patton weeks ago about a ceasefire, as of eight hours ago he has crossed over the Suez and is assisting Montgomery in routing out the 1st Waffen-SS division out of Tel Aviv," Stephenson spoke to the gathering. "His western flank is falling back into Tunisia and some of his army group are even returning back to Europe. Finally field agents have reported seeing good portions of the Western European occupation force is heading east. I would not be surprised if that was the same deal as well as the Southern Germany civil war front."

A low murmuring erupted at the mention of Rommel collaborating with Montgomery. Churchill's face was purple at the suggestion.

"Meaning?" asked George Marshall.

"Meaning that the Germans don't just back out of their occupied territory unless they have a fall back plan," Donovan elaborated further. "They have something that they firmly believe will make us sue for peace. I believe that explosion was a prelude; it was just them settling their own affairs first. These withdrawals from the Western Front are gestures of peace. Not peace with the Soviets, but for us. These are big steps on their part. And if they do not get our audience, we might find ourselves in a position where they deploy their new arsenal on us."

Churchill continued to stare at Donovan. It was not a kind look.

"I don't believe a word of what you are saying," the Prime Minister spoke slowly. "Frankly, I find your appeasement as insulting to our intelligence. The time for appeasement has long since come and gone with my predecessor. We cannot give the German national identity any room to survive be it Nazis or Kaiser Supporters. The collapse of Germany as a world power is paramount for the survival of democracy. That is not simply credence, but a reality."

The first man to respond to the Prime Minister was naturally Arthur _'Bomber'_ Harris.

"Sir, I suggest a coordinated air armada campaign over Berlin day and night," Air Chief Harris naturally suggested. "The Commonwealth and the United States finally flattening Berlin would send a clear message that we will not be bullied into an early peace with those Hun bastards."

"Mister Prime Minister, Mister President, I cannot possibly stress enough how much of a mistake that course of action would be!" Stephenson replied right away, his eyes wide as he tried to keep the attention of the leadership. "The bombing of Germany and the UK cities resulted in same result: Senseless death and stiffening resolve!" Germany is nearly cured of the Nazi menace and all you are doing now will be renewing their hatred of us that has cooled."

"Gas them."

The room went dead silent at the suggestion. Each head turned to face the source of the absurd idea. It was a young USAAF Colonel sitting far away from the gathering, his face stern and emotionless as two world leaders, Generals and intelligence officers looked at him. He stared back at the room like he had said nothing offensive.

"Excuse me?" Roosevelt was the first to speak, turning his head to one side, his tired expression reformulated to one of disbelief. "And you are?"

The Colonel stood up from his seat, his hands wrapped around behind his back.

"Mister President I am Curtis LeMay, Colonel, United States Army Air Force," the younger man introduced himself to everyone gathered. "I lead B-24 missions into Germany, and let me tell you right now that no amount of conventional bombing will break the German. They are in the fight of their lives. The Air Chief has the right idea, but the attack has to up the ante, not more or less be the same thing only at an exponentially larger scale."

William Stephenson was the first one to break the silence left by the cold observation that the USAAF man was making.

"So because they resist like Londoners resisted, we need to up the ante?" Stephenson taunted LeMay, his voice chalk full of disgust. "Who in invited this lunatic?" he added. "I thought this was going to be a discussion about accepting or rejecting the German peace proposals, not an escalation of the war!"

"Stephenson, watch your tone," Stuart Menzies, director of MI6 told his subordinate. Stephenson glared at his boss as Menzies turned his attention back to the dossier that Donovan provided –the only man in the room to do so. William did not like to be told off when he was only stating a truth.

It was Curtis LeMay's turn to step forward. His expression turned into a sneer for spymaster.

"With all due respect, we can no longer afford to deal with the Germans with one hand tied behind our backs," he bit back before he turned to face Churchill and Roosevelt once again. "The utilization of chemical weapons over Northwest Germany, incendiaries over Northeast Germany, followed by the flattening of Berlin will be a death blow to their Reich. This will not be a multi-waved raid for the Luftwaffe to intercept and weaken. Just one unstoppable, demoralizing wave… Those Japs even have a name for it: _Tsunami_."

Tsunami… the statement seemed to have sent a collective shiver down the backs of the leadership gathered in the parliament building. Some appeared impressed by LeMay's calls, others disturbed. The most disturbed of them all was still William Stephenson. A man who had no love for Germans, but he was driven by his honour just like most Great War fighter pilots were. It must have been horrible to witness aviation he helped pioneer be converted into a weapon of mass destruction…

"That... that is sheer insanity!" Stephenson breathed, his face contorted into horrified disgust. "Do you understand what you are suggesting?!"

"I know _exactly_ what I am suggesting," LeMay growled back, he turned to Bill, adding. "You said it yourself, Donovan. The Germans are backed into a corner. They might have been above using gas on us in an offensive means a year ago, but who's to say they won't now? It is better we initiate a first strike before they do. They are desperate and desperate animals are dangerous, but desperate animals are usually wounded and near their demise. One good frightening kick will finally knock them down! It is better we initiate a first strike before they do. At least then we will be prepared for the response!"

Stephenson finally pried his eyes away from LeMay. His gaze swept across the room as though he was looking for back up. None was offered.

" _There has to be a better way_!" he addressed the gathering breathlessly. "We all stood in protest when the Italians gassed the Ethiopians. We'll lose all credibility if we follow Mussolini's example!"

Behind him, LeMay crossed his arms over his chest.

"The difference is one is major military power that has plunged the world into war, the other are a bunch spear chucking Negros who posed no threat to the Italians," he snapped back. "Mister President, we don't have time to argue semantics on how to ethically slaughter them into submission; all we just have to do it the most awesome display of our force projection possible! Gas, fire or bombs, they'll die all the same, regardless!"

His face contorted into disgust, William Stephenson approached President Roosevelt. The two were relatively close. It was Stephenson who more or less kept him up to date before Donovan was hired to the position as chief of the OSS.

"Sir, we believe the Germans are miles ahead of in terms of payload rocketry and poison gas development," he informed the President. "If we attack them with gas, they inevitably will re-purpose their rocketry based weapons into a gas dispersing weapons platform. They won't need an air force to retaliate with gasses many times deadlier than what we possess. They might be something we can't counteract with simple gas masks. "

Donovan cleared his throat.

"If you don't believe him, speak to chemists involved in our special weapons projects," Donovan stepped in on behalf of Stephenson. "Germany has always been a decade ahead of us in chemical weapons research. If they response, it could potentially be a catastrophic response. Mister Prime Minister, do you think your people are prepared for that?"

The question spoken to the Prime Minister went unanswered. Churchill was debating his response, or at the very least pretending to debate it. Churchill had a long noted history of wanting to end the German threat by any means possible. He was not above the deployment of less than ethical weapons to stop them.

"My people have weathered far worse than whatever you think the Germans could throw at us," The Prime Minister finally spoke. His voice resolved to the task LeMay was laying out. "I said from the beginning we have to be ready to use everything in our disposal. This was always a dark inevitability."

LeMay stepped forward.

"Even if they launch their rockets, we will do this again and again until they stay down for good," LeMay reassured the Prime Minister. "With all due respect to the boys in the desert, the past eight months Montgomery hasn't been able to push over the Suez, Eisenhower has been stuck in Algeria for pushing and retreating. We have fooled around with ground operations long enough. It's clear the Army has been more or less fought to a standstill instead of breaking the Germans hold on North Africa, so it will be up to the air forces to do their work."

"How long would it take to organize this attack?" Stephenson snarled. "Five minutes? Ten minutes?"

LeMay did not take the bait. Usually air force men were hot heads, but apparently this LeMay was a man who was slow to display anger at a personal slight, at least in the presence of the Commander-In-Chief.

"I've had the plan prepared the moment the German Civil War begun," LeMay snapped back right away as he turned to Churchill and the rest of the British. "Give me access to your chemical weapons storage and three days and you'll have your unconditional surrender of the Germans no later than the day after the second attack."

Churchill did not reply. He turned his curious expression over to Roosevelt, whose expression was gaunt. Despair set in as soon as Donovan realized that Roosevelt was no longer willing to deny that the war needed further escalation. He was on board with LeMay's plan, and knowing Roosevelt, nothing was about to break his resolve.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Brigadier General LeMay," Roosevelt murmured finally. "The Tsunami operation is yours."

Nodding, satisfied with both his promotion and the permission of the President and Prime Minister to commit to his war changing operation, LeMay dismissed himself. He did not spare a look to the dumbfounded Stephenson as he left. As the door closed behind him, Roosevelt turned back to Donovan and Stephenson, resigned in his new responsibility.

"Donovan, Stephenson, thank you for your analysis, but peace is no longer an option," Roosevelt informed to the two intelligence officers. "As I told you before, Bill: We don't make deals with Prussians. The only way to save Europe now is by killing Germany and starting over with what remains. Our people, the entire world, including Germany deserve nothing less…"

Taking it as a dismissal, Bill suppressed the urge to shout at all of them for not ending this conflict. For allowing fear of the unknown potential of a Nazi-free Germany dictate their decision making. Instead of speaking, he instead gritted his teeth and saluted, leaving with Stephenson in lockstep behind him.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Admiral Jarva, I was informed you wished to see me?"

Looking up from his console, Alaan'Jarva found none other than Valar'Cutara vas Returned standing in the doorway, smiling prettily at the Admiral. Standing up, Alaan returned the smile with a nod, gesturing for the woman to enter his office.

Valar'Cutara was one of the _Returned_. When the call went across Citadel space, she was one of the hundreds of thousands who dropped their lives and returned to their people. It was a sacrifice Alaan was truly was humbled by. Some of the Returned lived off the fleet for a generation. They sold everything and presented their wealth to the fleet.

Of course, not all chose to be noble self-sacrificing. There were still an estimated forty odd thousand who refused to return upon the final call back, but as of the Earth month of March, they were cut off from the fleet and determined as race traitors. It was a harsh, but fair title. They were given ample warning. If they wanted to betray their duty as a quarian, that was their prerogative.

While his respect for the Returned was high; what really made Valar stick out was her trade. She was quite possibly one of the most well-known quarian actresses in modern time. Awards, honours, she was likely the only liked quarian left in the galaxy. When she announced her retirement from acting at the call of return, it must have stirred quite the uproar in the entertainment community.

"What do you know about humans?" he asked her as he pushed himself away from his console and back behind his desk.

"Not much more than what the instructors taught me." She returned quite brightly as she sat down. "They are quite fascinating creatures, these humans. Are we really going to tame them like the salarians tried the krogan?"

Alaan could not help himself but chuckle at the question. He shook his head.

"Teach them, my dear. They aren't Varren, although I wouldn't be surprised if there was a biological connection," Alaan corrected the young woman with a slight smile. "In order for humanity to be of any use to us, they must be taught the errors of their way; not just through superior firepower, but through our words and deeds… and perhaps the occasional lecture."

Valar merely smiled prettily. It was clear that she was still confused. She was not a stupid woman by any means. She was simply out of her depth at the moment.

"As you say, Admiral," she replied as she shifted in her seat. "Still I do not understand why I am here in the first place."

Leaning back into his seat and crossing one leg over the other, Alaan returned her kind expression.

"I want to offer you a job, Valar'Cutara," he invited. "I want to offer you the new position of spokeswoman to the Admiralty Board. You will be the collective voice of our people until a proper civilian government is set up."

Valar stared at Alaan quizzically. Then without a warning, she burst out into a rather nervous sounding giggle. Alaan chuckled as well as he opened his desk drawer and removed a bottle of vintage Rannoch brewed brandy. Something he saved as a celebration. She might not have accepted the position, but perhaps a drink would loosen her up into handling such a momentous task.

"I… I would be honoured," she finally spoke as she watched the Admiral poured two glasses. "It's just that… well don't you think I would be a little under-qualified for this position? I know very little about politics, let alone serving as a face of a diplomatic effort."

Alaan clasped his hands together as he shook his head.

"Not at all," Alaan immediately assured her. "The art of representation takes a talent you have honed over your years acting. It will be up to you to take what we say and put a… smiling face and a kind voice to our words."

The young woman remained silent; smiling, but silent. Valar appeared to be weary at the offer he was extending to her. If Alaan had been in her position, he too would have been leery by it. Humans were unpredictable, and as a spokeswoman, she might be targeted by disgruntled and fearful humans who might be foolish enough to believe she was the one who held power.

"I wanted to find a means to thank you since your return to the fleet," he said, deciding to shift the conversation slightly. "Your generous donation of your earnings over the years has been liquidized and helped purchase rare material for future use. Without a monetary economy set up yet, I will have to pay you in a more substantial means for the time being until we can properly compensate you."

Alaan stood up and wandered towards his private bathroom hidden away in the corner. He opened the door and found Magda Goebbels, bent over the waste receptacle, vomiting the contents of her stomach out -which at this point was only liquor. Both she and her remaining children were both his and Galina's responsibility until they landed ground side. Unfortunately his wife beat him to choosing tending to the children, leaving him stuck with the Goebbels woman.

Since she effectively setting back her denazification process by begging Hitler to free her, Magda had been perpetually drunk and in this state now for the past day and a half. Alaan was not about to interfere. The foolish woman deserved all the pain and misery that came with binge drinking. She deserved to feel guilty throwing his daughter's hard work away the moment the Nazis liberated Hitler, and for not trying to stop the savage beating Skorzeny inflicted on Hanala. There were two people who could have stopped that: Hitler and Magda. She should have stood up.

That was the inherit weakness and strength of the Germanics people. Rarely did they stand up in the face of an intolerable action partaken by a purpose in a superior position. It could be used for great or terrible purposes. With any luck blind obedience to authority could be lessened somewhat. They still needed the Germans to fulfill their side of the bargain about to be struck up once Louis Ferdinand was placed back into the position of Kaiser.

As she looked up and found Alaan hovering over her Magda stood up, wiping her mouth and pulling out a pair of heavy sunglasses that belonged to Hanala. She covered her eyes and staggered out by Alaan. Her head was bowed as she found herself once again a target of attention by a wide eyed quarian whom never met a human before. Magda slumped hard onto the couch in the corner and dug for her cigarettes and a bottle of Joachim's spirits.

"This is Magda Goebbels," Alaan uncomfortably introduced the intoxicated mother and very much still an ardent National Socialist. "Her late husband was in charge of virtually all forms of media inside National Socialist Germany."

Valar nodded gravely and turned to Magda, who was staring ahead, smoking as she pulled the cork out of the bottle. Her mouth was tight as smoke flowed out of her nose.

"I… I'm sorry for your loss," she addressed the human mother.

Magda did not react to the condolences of the younger woman. She instead pulled her cigarette and placed her glass to her lips, a mouthful of cigarette smoke mixed into the amber liquor. Alaan had to admit himself impressed by her dedication to self-flagellation.

"My husband was a _degenerate_ adulterer hypocrite, who loved to fuck Slavic actresses as he gleefully told the German people just how depraved and _backwards_ said Slavs were," she hissed as soon as she swallowed her drink. "You have _nothing_ to apologize for. The world is ultimately better off without him."

It took a lot on Alaan's part not to burst out into laughter at Magda's observations of Joseph Goebbels. Even more so as he looked at Valar, who had turned dark purple at Magda's words. She might not have understood the context, but certainly she knew when another woman was scorned. And Magda Goebbels was the absolute pinnacle of a woman betrayed and scorned.

Deciding the discussion of the private life of the late Doctor Goebbels had no place in this conversation, Alaan cleared his throat.

"For a militaristic state such as Germany, you would be surprised just how rich their appreciation of the arts is... well I suppose that is to be expected in a dictatorship," he quickly amended as he sat down on the edge of his desk, next to the actress, who was watching Magda smoke. "Anyways, through Magda you will have unlimited access to the thriving German cinema industry and arts community. You can teach them, and they can teach you. Whenever humans aren't killing each other in droves, they are as artistic and expressive as we. A thriving interspecies entertainment and arts community would work wonders in forging the first common bond between the two peoples, and I want you to be the woman who is the driving force behind that."

As Alaan fell silent, he watched as Valar gently swirled the contents of her liquor glass carefully. She appeared to be debating it. It was a good sign. She seemed to understand just how important the gift was.

Softly she sighed and leaned into her seat, her expression was exacerbated.

"I don't know, Admiral," she repeated her uncertainty once again It just… I don't think I can do that. I mean, it's a wonderful idea and all. Being able to share a laugh or an appreciation in something beautiful is important, but again, I'm just an actress, not a guru to the arts."

Alaan reached out and took the young woman's hand. Rarely did he make contact with people he did not know. However in this case, where it was Valar'Cutara herself, he would make an exception.

"You said that you were not qualified to take a government position, but this you have no excuse," he shushed her with whatever charisma old age hadn't yet robbed from him. "Think of it like this: You will be the one who nurtures our culture and traditions back to life: every festival, every celebration, every period of reflection and custom. It will be you who reminds us what it is to be quarian. Not just a species struggling to survive, but to flourish on our new world…"

He paused just for a moment, and then added. "You will be the mother to our renewed arts and cultural traditions."

The statement put the young woman into a strange memorization. For the first time in her life, she appeared to be thinking about her legacy to her people. Being the woman who revived the rich quarian culture was not something she was about to turn down.

" _The Mother of the Arts_ … You have got to be fucking kidding me," Magda suddenly spoke, killing the moment.

Glancing back to Magda with a determined resolve, Valar downed the last of her drink and stood up from her seat.

"Come Magda, let's talk…" she addressed the woman.

More than happy to dump the drunken First Lady of the National Socialist movement into her hands at least for a few moments, Alaan nodded and took the glass out of Cutara's hands. She smiled as she stood up and leaned in, kissing the suddenly stunned Admiral's cheek. She stepped back and helped Magda stand up, guiding the human woman out of his offices.

Sighing, Alaan pushed himself off his desk and took a seat on his couch, a stupid silly, smile crossing his mouth. It was good to know that he still had it. Not that he would dare admit that this happened.

Ancestors save him from his wife if she found out.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

There was now no way to stop or delay Operation Tsunami.

The decision to escalate the war into a genocide campaign had been finalized. The planes had been launched as of an hour ago. All that Bill Donovan and William Stephenson could do now was sit in the OSS offices, drinking heavily as they tried not to ponder the unthinkable response that would hit England the moment the gas clouds dissipated, leaving the Germans in a collective rage and forgetting their calls for peace as they retaliated.

"Bill… I never thought I'd say it, but we're standing on the wrong side of history today," William spoke up suddenly, slurring his words slightly. "The Germans are absolute bastards, but at least Hitler knew the suffering caused by chemical warfare. Not even he would do this. Roosevelt and Churchill… they never saw the gas in action… they didn't even bat an eyelash…"

Bill nodded grimly to Stephenson. It was the rare time that he agreed with Hitler. Only men who saw modern warfare knew how odious what Roosevelt and Churchill had ordered.

"Roosevelt stood against it until LeMay convinced him otherwise," Bill weakly defended his boss. He shook he head in disgust, adding. "Jesus Christ, we thought we could be better men than they were. But we aren't, are we? The war has driven both sides mad. We're all going to hell for turning a justified war into a dirty conflict…"

As Donovan fell silent, he watched as Stephenson pushed himself out of his seat. He was swaying slightly as he paced. His expression was nervous. Finally he turned around and stood in front of the Chief of the OSS.

"We can't stop the war, we can't stop this mission either, but we can dampen the effects," Stephenson spoke finally. "Bill, we have to go to Wilhelm Canaris right now. We could lessen the damage that psychotic LeMay wants to inflict."

Donovan blinked as he stared at the frantic looking Canadian. He wanted to actually approach the Chief of the Abwehr, risking the lives of the tens of thousands of airmen apart of the operation. What was about to unfold in Germany was wrong, but this was treason.

"It's the only way to clean this mess up," Stephenson pressed on as Donovan held his silent stare on the Spymaster. "Canaris is a good man, I mean he's us: he's driven by faith and conscience. Telling him will undoubtedly get a lot of air crews killed and wounded, but it is unavoidable now. We can't permit this sort of strike on our watch to go unchallenged. We have to stand up against what is wrong, even if it's our own side! Going to Canaris could buy German civilians several hours of forewarning to flee or prepare at leas-"

Donovan held up his hand.

"William… please stop," he requested tiredly.

As Stephenson's rambling stopped, Donovan leaned onto his knees, a dull pain catching him in the side.

"God forgive me, but as depraved as he may be, LeMay might be right," Donovan admitted finally to the outraged younger man. "This is the true nature of modern war and we need to accept that. We swore to defend our nations from the tyranny of German militarism in all of its forms and at any cost… even our souls. Perhaps in the end this could save more lives than it takes in the long term…"

Stephenson stared at Bill for a moment before snorting in disgust.

" _So that's it?_ We're just going to wrap ourselves in our flags and let hundreds of thousands of civilians choke out their lungs just because they are our _current_ enemy?" he snarled at his compatriot. "When this gets out, and it will get out the moment the gas hits their cities, we will be recalled as monsters in the annuls of history for supporting it, or cowards for standing against it, but not standing up and doing what is right and not easy."

Downing his whiskey, the Canadian slumped next to Donovan on the couch.

"You can forget about a moral high ground," he muttered out loud. "If the Germans somehow come out of this conflict on the victorious side, you can bet your ass they will be calling for our blood. Every man in that meeting will be hung."

Donovan stared at Stephenson curiously for the statement. Was he actually suggesting that the Germans could somehow still win this conflict? At best they could draw to a stalemate, but win? There was simply no possible way. They were a surrounded and battered nation reeling from a Civil War. They were the ones calling for peace in the west, not the other way around.

"I just don't see any way that scenario can happen," he tried to reassure the spy. He dropped his hand on Stephenson's shoulder, only to have it brushed off as Stephenson slid to the other side of the couch. Twisting in his seat, William's hostile expression softened back into a nervous one.

"I got drunk the night LeMay was promoted and I had a lot to think about," he spoke slowly, nervously. "I haven't stopped drinking as you can see, but I got something I need to run by you… a story of sorts which I have been stitching together. I want you to listen to it."

Smiling slightly at the admission, Donovan nodded. With any luck listening might ease the tension that had been building in the Canadian these past few days.

"It starts with a discovery outside of made by the SS who moved heaven and earth to bring it back to Austria," Stephenson begun slowly. "It's not British, it's not American, it's unlikely to be Soviet and it's likely not Germans, because the Germans would never take a prototype technology east of the Greater German Reich. We sent a team… they get killed… completely wiped out in a display of uncharacteristic German cunning."

Donovan nodded. He recalled the failed Operation Rage. A lot of good men were killed that day. There was only one reported survivor and he was likely locked away until the end of the war.

"Only month's later bomber flights are being shot down with increasing efficiency, U-boats are sinking our boats at frightening speeds… nearly as fast as we can make them," Stephenson pressed on. "There is no explanation, just the sudden drastic tightening of the enigma code and nothing. Then after putting months of training to action, Operation Anthropoid is launched and a botulism laced hand grenade catches that fucker Heydrich in the chest. He should have died within days. Instead he survives an attack that should have been medically impossible to have survived."

Before Donovan could interject that might have been sheer luck, Stephenson continued.

"In late 42, Malta is taken out by a freak incident that disabled the garrison's war making ability and leaves the Germans and Italians unscathed," Stephenson continued, his voice growing higher. "In '43 we see a huge technological and production advancement of the Heer, the drastic tank developments, the select fire assault rifle and worst of all the rapid supply transfers from Germany into the desert. Now even the USAAF is reporting a dark out zone in the middle of Libya. Nothing survives going in, let alone coming out. Radio signals are scrambled and then they are gone. The only thing that comes and goes from there unaffected are the new ME-262 that isn't supposed to be in the sky until 1945! Rotorcrafts are no secret, but every expert in the field knows the technology is not mature enough for practical use, and yet the Wehrmacht has deployed dozens into combat."

Stephenson took a deep breath as he set down his glass. He stared at Donovan, who was transfixed now by what William was trying to get across. From what he gathered, he believed that the Germans were… what? Making technological leaps and bounds far too quickly?

"What are you saying?" Donovan decided to inquire.

He watched as William looked over his shoulder for a moment. He leaned forward.

"I think that the Germans getting _outside_ help," Stephenson breathed to him conspiratorially. "As is, outside of this world sort of help..."

Donovan could not help but explode into laughter at Stephenson's assessment the moment he dropped his hypothesis. He did not care at how pissed the man was. Did all Canadian have a screw loose? He heard that Prime Minister Mackenzie Kind actually communed with his dead mother. Now this? Outside of this world help? Jesus Christ….

"From who," Donovan spoke in between his laughter. "From God?"

Stephenson appeared absolutely furious that his statement was not being taken seriously.

"It might as well be! I'm talking about a technologically superior alien species that has been manipulating the war and the Germans for the past year. The Germans are being used as their foot soldiers for their planetary conquest and occupation. You and I both know that explosion cold never be replicated by us or them. Not unless they have outside help! When the Aliens discover that we tried to gas them, and they will discover it, that will be the end of us…"

Stephenson trailed off as he realized that Bill was staring at his counterpart with wide eyes. At first Bill assumed it to be a bad joke, that there was no way a rational intelligent mind like William Stephenson would believe in such tripe. But it was clear that was the case. His suggestion that aliens were the culprits was something straight out of War of the Worlds.

"You think I'm crazy don't you?" the drunken spymaster shot back. "Just because I haven't slept in 72 hours and been drinking like Churchill doesn't mean that I've _lost_ it. I want you to try and think of another explanation that fits everything together, because I sure as bloody hell can't! Try!"

Bill remained silent for a moment, maintaining his eyes on. For Stephenson's sake, he did try, and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. But just because it made sense, did not mean it was so. If anything the explanation being an alien intervention would be far too easy, and far too horrifying if it was true…

"Have you forgotten Occam's Razor, friend?" Donovan finally spoke to him. "The Germans are industrialist technology nuts, and the fog of war is real thick in a conflict like this, no matter how many of their spies we have in our pockets. I can assure you that if there were aliens, they would have long since contacted us instead. We might have been bastards recently, but the Germans have been bastards since 1870. No civilization would be insane enough to side with them."

While it was clear that despite his assurances, William remained unconvinced by the counter-argument, he was not about to continue it. Donovan decided that this this conversation was best to be forgotten. The last thing anyone needed was high ranking intelligence officers dragged before a committee to testify about treason and aliens...

"Go and get some sleep, Bill," Donovan requested, his hand patting Stephenson's back. "Sleep deprivation and alcohol shouldn't mix."

It took a moment before Stephenson to acknowledge the request. It took another before he stood up and gathered his coat and hat. He was still very miffed that the American was dismissing him and his concerns.

"I'm not crazy," William muttered as he left. "Something is happening and it's not adding up."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

As I speak the Wehrmacht are ready for their final offensive against Berlin. The last holdouts of a dead regime killed when elements of our fleet launched an orbital strike on his hideout. Adolf Hitler has been killed as of three days ago. During these three days without Hitler, we have allowed the German leadership to approach yours. None of the many calls have been answered...

The beeping of Alaan's Holoprojector caught his attention away from the speech he had spent the past several days drafting out. Finding the right balance of peace, reassurance and forcefulness was tricky one, but he believed he had found it after several drafts that more or less got all of his rage out of his system. Threatening the glassing of the west would likely not help win the quarian people any friends.

Activating the device, he found Captain Malu'Canar vas Jalu'Tanerk standing before him, her hair pulled back tight and stern, her hands behind her back and her expression impersonal as she stiffened at the sight of the Admiral staring back at her.

"Sir, it appears that we got our response from the western nations," she informed him crisply. "High orbit recon detects six thousand aircraft inbound on trajectory to Berlin. More than two thirds appear to be heavy ground bombers."

It took all of Alaan's efforts not to widen his eyes at the report. Those bastards… those stupid, stubborn bastards decided to answer peace with a slaughter that all the Luftwaffe and all the anti-aircraft guns in Germany could not staved off. He shuddered to think of the amount of munitions the force would deploy against an already terribly shaken country. The last thing Germany needed was further demoralization.

Alaan paused his moment of terror as the obvious decision came to mind. His attack on Hitler served as the first combat involvement in the war. This aerial raid would provide the pretext to a display of technological superiority without having to attack ground targets. A staggering blow coupled with his written speech would serve wonders as a future deterrent to their aggression.

" _Jalu'Tanerk_ , if you haven't discharged your drive core then do it now and burn into the atmosphere to intercept the taskforce," Alaan barked at the Captain. "Send out one audio warning and then target them with live fire should they persist and continue their heading. Do not pursue if they turn back."

Captain Canar inclined her head and turned away, presumably to face her bridge crew.

"You heard the Admiral!" the young Captain roared to her crew. "Discharge the drive core and accelerate quarter speed into the exosphere. The battle will take place sixty kilometres northwest of Wilhelmshaven… **ALL HANDS TO BATTLESTATIONS!** "

As the sound of the alarm sirens wailed, Captain Canar turned back to the Admiral.

"We will intercept the aerial armada in forty local minutes," She inquired, her hands once again behind her back. "If they do not turn back, I need to know just how much destruction had you wanted to inflict before I take pity on them?"

Crossing his fingers together, Alaan frowned. The realization that the battle about to take place would be a one -sided slaughter had come to the forefront of his thoughts. It was one thing to kill a Hitler and his zealots. It was quite another thing killing some poor bosh'tet serving his country.

"Near total," he returned finally. "We should have a few survivors to spread the fear."

Nodding gravely, the Captain of the _Jalu'Tanerk_ disconnected her feed, leaving Allan alone to stew in his order. Staking the uncomfortable feeling of ordered death, he returned back to his greeting and warning to humanity.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Fregattenkapitän Hellmuth Strobel stood in awe on the deck of the Königsberg-class Cruiser _Köln_ with the majority of his cadet engineers. Each and every one of them had forgotten their repair duties to the light cruiser as they watched the horizon darken with what appeared to have been an aerial armada.

Strobel had seen a thousand bomber raids before… but this… this was something different. This was a display of the awesome air superiority the west had over Germany. And the most frightening thing was that if they were willing to take this sort of risk. It meant something: That there was no shortage of planes in their arsenal if they could group this fleet together. There was no way the Luftwaffe would be able to stop this, and certainly not him and the Köln, a heavily damaged light cruiser with a skeleton crew that had limped out into the coastal waters for her first sea trials.

The only possible way for something to be done was a nationwide alert to both sides of the conflict. Hitler may have been dead for real now, but the National Socialist were still clinging to what power remained. Both sides would have to come together and point all their weapons into the sky in order to stop whatever the hell the psychotic Americans and British had in mind.

And that meant the Köln as well. Every gun that could reach them once the aerial armada came within range, would be used. The bastards were unstoppable, but at the very least they would bring a few of those planes down before they came after the ship.

"Jesus Christ," he heard one of his cadet engineers breathe out loud. "I have never seen so many planes in my life…"

Choosing not to echo the engineer's sentiments, the Fregattenkapitän cupped his hands over his mouth. He had to take control of this situation, no matter how futile it might have appeared.

"All AA guns to station!" he screamed to his men. "Alert the coast!"

The surge of activity went into overdrive. He watched as his crew pulled anti-aircraft munitions out of the storage and double timed it to the guns.

Strobe turned and started to leave their. He would head back to the bridge and get this ship moving. They would meet the enemy head on. If he managed to surprise them, they would not be in a position for a targeted bombing run on the Köln. If they got enough surprise flak in the air, he might even startle a portion of the air fleet to break their positions. A sloppy flight was an ineffective attack and would help the Luftwaffe respond effectively.

An enormous roar made the Köln sway and roll hard on the suddenly choppy waters. The force of the movement knocked the Kapitän off his seat, hitting his backside on the stairs and leaving him sprawled out. His eyes wide, his breath caught in his throat as he looked at the source of the ocean displacement.

 _It was a ship_

It was a ship in the sky.

At least Two kilometres over the ocean and yet it covered much the sky over the light cruiser. It had to have been easily at least a kilometre and a half long. It was an ominous sight to say the least. One that Strobel would never forget. It was a sort of steel cylindrical with pulse neon blue lights that did not move from its location. It was locked in place by however such a monstrosity was propelled through the air.

Forcing himself to stand up, Strobel held his eyes on the sight. There was simply no way that this was something constructed by German nor American hands. That deduction did little to settle him. Where in the hell did this thing come from?!

Unable to ponder the answer to the infinitely troubling question, the sky ship suddenly roared out, making every man on the deck of the Köln clutch their ears and collapse at the deafening noise.

The first man to take his hands off his ears was the Fregattenkapitän. He looked turned his eyes back up to the vast object in the sky with wide, frightened eyes. He was frightened for only a moment as his brain clicked back into gear. This was not just some anomaly. This was a naval interdiction. It might have been a kilometre above the ocean but it had all the same signs. The vessel was broadside to the incoming aerial fleet; the roar was a warning to turn back before it was too late.

It was a warning that the Americans and British were likely ignoring. A humming echoed off the ship, its source from the strange vessel in the sky.

Then out of nowhere, illuminating red light exploded from the aerial battleship. It was a piercing light like a flashlight, hot enough to cut right through the first wave of fighters and bombers. The crew of the Köln watched in a strange mixture of glee, horror and sympathy as plane after plane exploded and disintegrated in front of their eyes so quickly and violently.

The vessel was not done yet with the attackers. It fired another salvo, and then another and another. The armada was whittled down to a fraction of what it was and the formation was scattered, but still they intercepted the monstrosity of a vessel until they were in range of their own guns. Hellmuth could not help but feel a twinge of respect for the enemy. If he were in that position, he did not know if he could show the same amount of bravery displayed by them. By then lighter fire poured out of the vessel. It was a fire machine gun fire -faster than he had ever seen before.

The fighters fired everything they had at the craft: machine guns, auto- cannons, rockets. Absolutely nothing appeared to get through the blueish tinge that lit up a good ten metres or so between the ship and the light. As soon as the vessels apparent invulnerability was shown, the ship did not need to fire its light gun again. Not as the armada broke off their course and high tailed it back to England.

Pulling his binoculars back from his eyes, the Fregattenkapitän looked to the faces of his cadet engineers and skeleton crew. There was no sign of victory in their faces, no smiles or celebrations. They were total shock, whether from the slaughter or by the enormous vessel that did the slaughtering, Strobel could not know. The ship above them roared to life and slowly moved to intercept the fleeing air force. Not aggressively, but as though the vessel was going in the same direction as the fleeing air force.

Rubbing the back of his neck as he wondered just how the British stiff upper lip would survive this behemoth, Strobel turned to his second.

"Tell the Helmsman to move dead ahead at quarter speed," he told him softly. "Prepare the rescue teams if there are any survivors in the water."

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

For the first time in the war, true chaos descended into the streets of London.

Watching in horror from the top floor of 70 Grosvenor Street, W1 -The first established overseas headquarters of the Office of Strategic Services- William Donovan's eyes flew from the streets packed with fleeing Londoners to the sky where Spitfires were zooming to intercept the huge ominous vessel creeping closer and closer into the city.

It was the sky vessel that left Operation Tsunami in tatters.

He was right, that drunken son of a bitch William Stephenson was right. There was no other way to explain the phenomena, it wasn't German. It couldn't have been German. He sure as shit knew that the fog of war would never been able to cover up this size of a construction job of this magnitude. He was right... _Oh God_ he was right.

Without warning the vessel blared out again, making the windows of the OSS headquarters rattle once again. The screams from the streets below could be heard. William had to admit that it was an absolutely demoralizing effect. The strange ship did not need to fire a single shot to force an entire city to panic and flee. It was an awesome sight to behold.

 _"-the unidentified craft that has loomed over our scarred city has put up no resistance to the shelling and Spitfire interceptions_ ," the radio host trembled over the frequency as though Donovan and he were watching the same sight. _"No… no effect has appeared against the ship. The City Fathers has sounded the air raid sirens and pleads for all the people of our fair city to seek shelter-"_

Sure enough, the sirens sounded, a long wail that seemed to be a response to the vessel's own noise.

Without warning The BBC radio signal suddenly hissed and screeched, making the OSS director jump and should out a sacrilegious curse. This was no coincidence, not as the radio hummed back to life, not as a strange, chirping that sounded like a language poured out of the speakers. There was a renewed silence, and then pitch shift as it sounded as though someone was clearing her voice.

 _"Citizens of the Allied Powers; on behalf of the quarian people and our government, I greet you under the banner of peace, friendship and with hope for both of our futures."_

William stared widely at the radio. He… he hadn't exactly expected to hear that.

 _"We understand your urge to fear us. It is only natural that the species as young as yours is contacted a species as old as ours will hold certain concerns, and it will be up to our officials and through being good neighbours that will hopefully one day dispel those fears. I am not the person to do this here and now. I am here to introduce the quarian race to you as a potential future friend should you choose to be._

 _For centuries we have been a peaceful race, comingling with each other under the banner of brotherhood. We touched the stars and we have encountered many other species, further strengthening our belief in peace and our damnation of warfare. We relished in diplomacy, art, and sharing our rich cultural contribution to the galaxy and our greatest practical gift: Our technical prowess._

 _We have been watching you for nearly fifteen years now. Watching in silence as your species struggled back to your collective feet after a most terrible of wars; we have heard and seen the terrible plague and economic depression which only plunged you back into war. Millions killed due to injustices, ideological differences and aggressive foreign policy, both in physical, economical and tone. All sides are guilty in one way or another. Some more than others, but rest assure all will answer for the sake of a future peace."_

Donovan remembered the great Alien hoax caused by Orson Wells all those years ago. If there had been an alien invasion, that was what he would believe would happen: An unstoppable enemy that would not pause to offer words. But that was not the case. Not only were these aliens willing to talk, they appeared to have wanted to end the war.

 _"As such, it has been decided by our own leadership that the leaders of United States, Great Britain, The French Government in Exile, Italy and Germany shall be sitting down to begin the process of a normalization of relations between the Axis and the Allies. Where it occurs will be entirely up to your agreement. Once the talks begin they will not break down. We will end this conflict and there will not be a third one._

 _For the sake of clarity, we will not deceive you to our intent. We have been supporting Germany since our first contact in February of 1942. However our support has not been for the wretched National Socialists. We have given strength and reason for the Wehrmacht's leading Field Marshal's and General's to break the chains Hitler latched onto them in 1933. Our goal has always been the eradication of the Nazis._

 _As I speak the Wehrmacht are ready for their final offensive against Berlin. The last holdouts of a dead regime killed when elements of our fleet launched an orbital strike on his hideout. Adolf Hitler has been killed as of three days ago. During these three days without Hitler, we have allowed the German leadership to approach yours. None of the many calls have been answered._

 _Between the death of Adolf Hitler and the inevitable collapse of the National Socialists, a new stronger, more principled Germany is rising back to the world scene. It is your duty as citizens of this great planet to support this great effort and sacrifice made. It is time to forget and forgive, or at least minimize your Anti-German thoughts. Place yourself in the people trapped in the oppressive control of Hitler's Germany: Would you have been able to resist? Be honest with yourself. See the truth as we bring the last remaining despots to court in the coming months and years. You will see then just how coerced the people of Germany had been by these madmen._

 _It is recommended that you approach your governments and plead your representatives to make a case for peace. The sooner the governments of the Allies sit down at the table of peace with their enemies, the more likely our representatives will be impartial to listening to your national interests; for the sake of future cooperation between us and all the people of Earth._

 _We are not slavers, nor are we authoritarians either. If you choose to ignore this offer, we will understand and we will not approach you again about it…"_

The woman's voice trailed off and paused; but only for a moment.

 _"But make no mistake,"_ She concluded, her tone dropping a full octave, without warning. It was a silky, dangerous tone. _"A peace will be forged by your hands… or it will be up to us to force peace on you…"_

The signal vanished with a hiss, returning back to its regular broadcast. The cries of panic from the radio operators and engineers could be heard over the air, and then a sudden dead silence as the radio instead played a recording of Chopin, as though it would lift the mood.

It only made the sight of the Spitfires and Hurricanes exploding in vain over London that much heartbreaking

Silently, William Donovan slumped hard behind his desk. While the world collapsed into panic at the new arrivals on Earth, all that he could do now was get drunk, watch as the monstrosity in the sky loomed slowly deeper into London and hope to God that it was all just a nightmare…

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, fitted a scene from the previous chapter into this one.**


	21. The Greater Good

**Chapter Twenty One: The Greater Good**

 **…**

Over the next day since the worldwide quarian limited peace proclamation, the population of quarians in Kiel grew from three to thirteen thousand and no one had a say in the matter.

According to Admiral Zorah, they were the members of Falinau Division. They were the first official quarian military division with their boots on the ground in the Fatherland. At the moment they were in the process of being converted from a marine based into a proper Panzergrenadier. With no ground armour of their own to speak of, they were using the Heer panzers and armoured vehicles instead. Top of the line for Germans, they were antiquated to the quarians, who were befuddled that the vehicles required fossil fuels to operate. Worst yet, they appeared confused by the usage of ammunition that wasn't ran by mass accelerator rounds.

In order to get the Falinau Division reacquainted with ground combat, Generalmajor Hasso Von Manteuffel was assigned to coordinate with Falinau until both the soldiers of the quarian people and their commanders were adequately prepared for facing live fire like their far more experienced comrades. They would not have long to be educated. Gerd von Rundstedt had issued the orders to commence the final drive into Northeast Germany and Berlin. He and Zorah wanted 7th Panzer Division and Falinau working together as an immense propaganda effort directed toward three parties: The Allies, the National Socialists and the German people. The world needed to see just how loyal the two newly official allies were. Nothing proved that better than by eradicating the final National Socialist holdouts.

Of course nothing was ever that smooth. There was quite a bit of conflict that was building up between the 7th Panzer Division and Falinau. For starters the technological and language barrier came up between the interspecies military union. Many of the humans were assigned their first piece of quarian technology to use: Not the advanced assault rifles they envied, but rather the earpiece universal translator for communication. Once the teaching of the officers were completed, the translator was quickly learned by the rest of the Panzer Division, and it wasn't long after that the cooperative effort between human and quarians begun their first awkward steps of camaraderie.

Once the technological and language barriers were breached, the gender issue became all the more clear. A very good portion of Falinau Division was composed of women. A real novelty that most, if not all members of the 7th Panzer Division took issue with. The Wehrmacht being so male oriented, it was confusing to say the least that quarian women were permitted to enlist in an active combat role.

Obviously this came to Joachim as a bit of a surprise there was next to zero fraternisation between the genders. Not just amongst the naturally confused and uncomfortable Germans, but between the quarians mixed gendered unit themselves. Everything was on the level and professional, as though there was separation between the sexes. When Joachim inquired about it to the Commander of Falinau Division General Caran'Kaltaz about the matter, all he said was: "Gender conflict has long since been a nonissue to us. Clearly humans still have a long way to go."

Well he could believe that. All that Joachim had to do was look at Hanala. She wasn't a professional soldier, but she knew how to fight and she knew how to command. Of course, while Joachim did not think of Hanala as a weak woman, he had to admit that he had a certain… desire to retain a traditional gender role; one where he was the head and she devoted her time to raising and nurturing Saleb… and perhaps future children.

However, what he wanted and what he got were two separate matters altogether. With Hanala more or less recovered, she was up and a round working once again with the future Kaiser, leaving Joachim with Saleb. She being an Admiral and he an Oberst, she was not exactly unwilling to pull rank on him. Although Joachim was fine being involved, the least Hanala could have done was not be so smug about it. She seemed to take a real sick pleasure in making him submit to her will.

So now here he was, wandering down to the oceanfront with Saleb clutching onto his hand tightly as she nervously looked around at her new surrounding: from the shattered city of Joachim's birth, to the many civilians watching the small alien child passing by them, to the trucks and panzers rumbling through the street serving as occupation troops and the police. It would have been a quiet day around the grounds of the hotel when he got word from a reliable source that the Bismarck-class battleship _KM Tirpitz_ was steaming into port for her final retrofit before her redeployment into combat: a quarian design radio dish and operation centre. One of his friends was in Kiel and he reckoned he would look him up. In the meantime he also reckoned Saleb would like to see such a magnificent ship up close and to see the sea for the first time.

He looked at the child as he heard her hiss out. Saleb had stubbed her toe on a piece of debris and was now pouting from the pain that was now shooting through her foot. Slowly Joachim chuckled to himself, he paid no attention as Saleb stopped hopping in place and glared at him from her helmet.

"Not at all like your little electric game, is it girl?" he spoke up a little rougher than he perhaps intended. "This was a beautiful city before the war and now it's just ashes and rubble. Hundreds of years of careful development have been destroyed in a matter of weeks, and that's not counting the tens of thousands dea…"

Joachim trailed off as a shuffling pack of starving men, women and children limped across their path. Although they did not appear dangerous, Joachim still yanked Saleb's hand hard until the girl was behind. His other hand fell on his pistol the moment they noticed him. One by one the group approached him, as though he was the answer to their collective issues.

Well, Joachim wasn't about to accept that responsibility. This was his day off from dealing with this sort of shit. So he did what he knew when something was bothering him. He drew his pistol, spread his feet apart and glared at what was presumably the leader, a man in his fifties to sixties. Too old for service and likely close to be of no used to the war effort if he wasn't at work, as were the others - old men paying for the crimes of their children.

"Step back, civilian," he barked at all of them.

For the most part they listened. They stopped approaching him, but at least a quarter of the group was clearly sick with lung infections caused by prolonged exposure to aerial bombardment and artillery. The rest were swaying, restless from starvation. In short, they were miserable looking dregs on the verge of collapse. Why they stayed in Kiel was beyond him. They could have fled in any direction and found work on a farm –at least then they would have made themselves useful to the war effort. If Joachim had his way he would have had them all digging ditches and aiding in bringing Kiel back from the brink of destruction.

Licking his lips, the _'leader'_ took a step forward, his head arched to his side and as he noticed the alien child standing behind Joachim's body, his eyes widened in shock. Joachim narrowed his eyes and pushed the curious Saleb once again behind him properly.

 _ **"EYE'S UP FRONT, CIVILIAN!"**_ Joachim roared at the man before he could call it out to his group.

The old man jumped up into a state of attention. He looked like he was a veteran of the Kaiser's army at one point or another. Whatever trace of honour he may have had was long gone now. He was just one of the wretched now. A pathetic shadow of a man he used to be.

 _"Help us…"_ the old man begged plainly, his voice croaking. _"Please, Herr Oberst… help us…."_

Joachim replied by hardening his expression even more. His eyes flickered to one side. Across the street was a squad of occupation troops watching the encounter carefully. The old man looked as well and stiffened up slightly. Turning back, Joachim let go of Saleb in order to look at his wristwatch.

"Civilian rationing allocation has ended for today," Joachim addressed the gathering. "If you want help, then make your way to the city square and wait until tomorrow."

Unafraid by the young Oberst, the old man shuffled forward, playing o attention to Hoch's expression of revulsion from the smell coming off him, he reached out and grabbed Joachim's freshly pressed jacket with his grubby weathered hand.

 _"We tried there!"_ the old man returned desperately. _"There are so many people there waiting…"_

Without a warning, Joachim raised his dangling pistol and pressed against the old man's temple. The old man flinched; Joachim didn't as his mouth curled in disgust. The wretch had no business complaining. He was still alive, he could still make it. He should have learned to survive if Joachim was right and he was likely conscripted into the Kaiser's army at one point. There was no room to be weak in a war shattered Germany. Killing him would be a mercy, really…

 _"Please don't kill him."_

The little voice spoken in Khellish was only understandable to Joachim. He turned his head and found it was Saleb; she was trembling at the prospect of what was occurring and knowing just how bad it would become if Joachim continued his zealous belief in a merciless Darwinism.

Looking at Saleb for another moment longer, Joachim finally lowered his Walther and sighed. He decided against arguing his case to a five year old girl. She was likely not ready to understand that on occasion it as better to cut away the fat instead of letting it fester. The last thing Joachim needed was Hanala screaming at him when Saleb told her what happened.

Besides… it was all for show, really… for the most part. Joachim had long since decided he was done killing men literally. Sometimes a good solid scare and a reminder of mortality was enough to spook men like the current wretch in front of him out of his self-pity and misery and focus on survival and return back to a state of usefulness for the country.

"Herr Oberst, is this group hassling you?"

It was the leader of the squad, an older looking Feldwebel. His MP-40 was unslung and was being aimed at the group behind the old man. Grunting, Joachim shook his head as he holstered his sidearm and stepped back.

"Escort them back to the refugee internment," was his terse response, carefully avoiding the child looking inquisitively upwards at him.

The Feldwebel nodded and quietly Joachim waited as the squad surrounded the group like cattle and walked them east towards the city square, where tens of thousands of civilians were relocated to. Now that the quarians revealed themselves and had a Dreadnought hovering over Buckingham, there was no way that the English would dare commit another attack on Germany. Not when the quarians were poised to snuff out a millennium of history in a few minutes… Not that that would have been a bad thing. The demise of a criminal Great Britain would bring a great worldwide relief for the world that suffered under her control for so long.

Exhaling as the smell of filth finally faded away he turned around to face Saleb staring up at him. She appeared rather upset with him for the way he handled the beggars. All things considered it went rather well. Only a few months ago he would have likely made an example out of the old man.

"Why can't you help them?" she demanded, her voice high and curious.

Joachim looked away and watched as the group shuffled away under the watchful eyes of the occupation troops. He exhaled as he re-evaluated his decision to walk her down to the coast instead of driving. Gasoline was limited as it was, but at this point it would have been worth it to avoid this matter altogether with the child.

"What am I supposed to do, Saleb? Direct them to food that no longer exists? Feed them with Wehrmacht designated rations that they did not earn?" Joachim replied, again choosing to remain dead honest with the girl. "There is nothing I can do about it. As much help as we can provide them, many will still starve and die even after the fighting ends until we re-establish the supply lines."

He watched as Saleb's eyes widened in shock and then look at the distant group that harassed them for food. She was clearly very conflicted.

"Including them?" Saleb spoke as she turned back to him.

Joachim turned right around and bent down onto one knee. His hand clasped against the side of her helmet.

"I know that you mean well, but food for my men and I are food provisions that they did not earn," he carefully explained to her. "Food is not a right; it's a privilege, not the other way around. That is how it works now… so yes… they will very likely perish as a result. And no, Saleb, I can't save them, nor can you. You can't save everyone, life doesn't work that way. It's a lesson better learned at your age, than it was at Auntie Hanala or my age. Understood?"

Saleb did not reply. She appeared rather upset with what Joachim was telling her. He could not blame her for that. He was being grim, and as much as he didn't want to do it, he would have to continue being this. In order to come to terms with why her parents met an untimely demise, she needed to understand these sorts of things long before she was naturally ready to.

"War brings out the worst in all of us… That's why it's not something to aspire to," Joachim bitterly concluded as he stood back up. He offered her his hand.

It took another moment before Saleb took it and together they continued downwards to the waterfront.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Still in an immense amount of pain as she tenderly turned her head around so that she could look at her new surroundings. It was a magnificent display of ancient human architecture from centuries gone by. Even if she wanted nothing more than to curl up and stop existing. Ancestors, that bastard could hit.

Hanala'Jarva had to admit herself impressed as she walked through the grounds of the Hohenzollern Castle. The castle itself was located fifty kilometres south of Stuttgart on the peak of Burg Hohenzollern. As it was the ancestral home of the Kaiser line, it was the natural choice for the Hohenzollern family once they fled from Potsdam once it became apparent to the National Socialists just how deep the noble family was involved in the rebellion.

Despite the relative security the family had, there were easily two companies posted all over the grounds of the castle along with enough civilians to make this place appear as more than just a hideout for royals. True to his word, Lewis Ferdinand took in as many civilians as he could into his new home. Notably the Germans caught up in the protracted fighting in the regions outside of Berlin. It was heartening to Hanala that at least one German leader show unconditional respect to those out of uniform.

She was not the only quarian standing in the grounds. Since the attack on the _Kareon_ , she decided that she could no longer take chances; she decided it was time she travelled with a team of guards. They did not seem to mind, although they were quite tense. It was their first interaction with humans for the most part. They tensed up as the eyes of many humans watched them.

Hanala's eyes caught sight at a peculiar variation of the old German Empire flag that flew over the barracks. Instead of the colours being a horizontal, they were four triangles, the top one black, the bottom one red and the sides white.

"Remember your orders," Sergeant Rala'Laitara suddenly snapped out to her squad as she pulled her rifle off his magnetic strip and activated it. "Fan out and do not cause the humans any further reason to be suspicious, but do not be off your guard either… any further directives, sir?"

Prying her eyes from the flag, Hanala turned back to the NCO.

"Yes, you can put away your goddamn rifle," Hanala hissed back at Rala as she stepped by the Sergeant. "They aren't savage beasts… I mean, they're a little slow, but they aren't unreasonable..."

As Laitara ordered her men to stand down, Hanala's attention turned to entrance of the main structure inside the castle walls. The palace she assumed. The doors were opened and approaching her was the immaculate looking Generalfeldmarschall. Judging from his sour expression, he was a Junker. One she had heard of, but never met until today.

"Admiral Hanala'Jarva vas Bismarck, welcome to the seat of the monarchy," he greeted Hanala with a tone that was stronger than she expected from an old man like him.

Hanala offered the Generalfeldmarschall both a smile and her hand. She ignored Von Bock's hesitation to return the gesture. Still he did summon his Prussian courage long enough to reach out and take her three fingered hand. She had to get used to that sort of repulsive reaction. Humans had the excuse of not knowing any better.

"Generalfeldmarschall Von Bock," she said right back, unblinking. "I figured you would be back in Russia."

Contorting into a slight grin, Von Bock shook his head as he let go of her hand.

"I believed that would be the case too, however I was summoned by Gerd von Rundstedt, who suggested that it was time to reactivate the German Imperial Guard," he returned as he gestured to the guards behind him. "I have five hundred men for the task, but that will grow once more manpower is freed up."

Hanala looked at the guard detail once again. They looked like regular Heer troops to her. She reckoned the fancy uniforms signifying them as an elite guard would have to come later. Perhaps this would mean that the ridiculous Pickelhaube would be back in vogue…

Smiling privately, she turned back to her guard and waved them off to roam the grounds. Laitara nodded and dismissed her squad, however she remained in place. Sighing at her persistence, Hanala stepped forward to join Generalfeldmarschall Von Bock's side.

"How do you intend on getting men for a ceremonial role such as this?" she inquired as they passed the standing guard at the entrance. "Erich von Manstein will be campaigning hard for all Wehrmacht men sent east. I have serious doubt that any commanders on the Ost Front will be willing to oblige and request you make, even if it is for the Kaiser…"

His hands behind his back, Von Bock inclined his head in apparent agreement with Hanala's point.

"Yes, and I believe I have come to an accord with him," he brushed off as ignored the line of civilian food servers who paused their dining carts as the Generalfeldmarschall and quarian admiral moved by them. "In return for not molesting the Western occupation forces for recruits to the guard, he will grant me twenty percent of the Waffen-SS for re-education and punishment through service to their new leader. The Waffen-SS is the closest thing to an honour guard that existed in the Third Reich, they will return to that role in the Fourth as well…"

Hanala could not help but arch her brow at the agreement to transfer Waffen-SS troops to serve as the vanguard and defenders to the new German Emperor when only months prior they served a man who detested the Kaiser and monarchy as a whole. It seemed somewhat… dangerous for the young Kaiser to have men who were being punished to serve as protectors.

For now Hanala decided she would not make mention of the massive flaw in his intention. She had to learn to be more diplomatic, and not to blurt out the first thought on her brain. It was a difficult thing to do, but she had to learn that skill, or end up in another scenario where she had to fist fight another Skorzeny.

As they moved through the atrium, they passed more civilians who took the time stared at Hanala like she was a freak of some sorts, and then came to yet another honour guard posting. She had to get used to the stares now. That sort of reaction was going to be the new normal for the next few years.

Privately she hoped that Saleb wasn't being hassled while she was away. Joachim told her they would be walking through Kiel together… naturally that frightened her. Silently she berated herself, she had to learn to trust in Joachim, trust that he was responsible to tend to a child. Joachim had made it his point to help bring Saleb up in a tough world. Hanala somewhat feared what she would come home and find in all honesty…

Without any warning and with the tact of a krogan, Von Bock reached out and grabbed Hanala by her shoulder. It took all her effort not to yelp in pain. She was utterly sensitive at the moment. She turned back to Fedor, who was looking at her sternly suddenly.

"I trust you will remember to curtsey in his and the Grand Duchess' presence," he reminded her tersely. "I know you quarians might not think much of monarchy and the traditions that stem from it, but you will respect it, right?"

Hanala slipped out of the old man's grasp and crossed her arms.

"I know protocol, Herr Generalfeldmarschall," she reassured Von Bock with a hint of annoyance etched into her tone. "Since I saved your future Kaiser from being a pawn in Halid'Zorah's and the Wehrmacht Council's games, I have been studying proper protocol out of common respect."

Satisfied by her answer, Von Bock clicked his heels together and inclined his head to one side.

"Yes… Yes you are right… my apologies for my oversensitivity," Von Bock apologized haphazardly. "You must understand that the Hohenzollern name has been battered and bruised thanks in large part to the previous Kaiser. I dare not speak ill of the dead, but his behaviour was troubling during the lead up to the last war. It damaged the rather warm legacy of his Grandfather, Wilhelm I."

Hanala arched her brow at the suggestion that a German Kaiser was warm. As far as she could tell, they were provocateurs acting in unison with the absolutely ruthless Otto von Bismarck, who actually went out of his way to provoke Denmark, Austria and France into attacking the German states, in order to rile them into forming a unified, utterly paranoid state. Clearly Bismarck was a man whom Halid'Zorah wished he could be.

Sighing at the reflecting of the former Kaiser he once served faithfully, Fedor von Bock shook his head.

"Thankfully, the Crown Prince is cut from more conscientious cloth like his great-great-grandfather was," Von Bock pressed on, with an almost sincere tone in his voice. "His willingness to take refugees into his ancestral home, Germans who only day's priors still beloved their Austrian Corporal Führer is an example of the receptiveness of Wilhelm I and it is heart-warming to say the least."

Hanala attempted not to roll her eyes.

"How very Christlike of him," she said, poking fun at the old man.

The Generalfeldmarschall did not see the humour. Instead he looked at her curiously. Like perhaps there was hope for quarians.

"You are interested in the teachings of Christ?" he asked her, genuinely thrilled at by the prospects that the quarians may have taken an interest in the religious teachings offered by humanity.

Blinking at the suggestion that she was some sort of first wave Christian quarian, Hanala did not reply. Realizing quickly that Hanala was making a fool out of him, Von Bock flustered his nostrils and opened the doors in front of them and marched in. Hanala trailed behind him, a little ashamed that she failed to hold her tongue. She had a long way to go before her smart-ass tendencies would mellow down.

The room they entered was apparently a living room, but it came off as a grand hall. A massive hearthstone fireplace was its main feature with a large fire crackling inside. The room that could fit a hundred people or more was only occupied by two others: The Grand Duchess, who appeared to be knitting, and the now official Crown Prince, who was reading.

As soon as the door shut hard behind Von Bock and Hanala, Louis Ferdinand looked up at the source and closed his novel. A slight smile crossed his mouth. The Grand Duchess on the other hand did not so much as look up. It was clear to Hanala that unlike Louis, Kira was a snobby bitch who thought herself above the dealings with military men and foreign dignitaries. Hanala kind of liked that. It showed more personality than being a simpering accessory for her husband to use.

"Admiral Jarva, a pleasure to be face to face once again!" greeted the future Kaiser enthusiastically as he approached his quarian confidant.

Smiling kindly, Hanala carefully bent down and managed to ignore her pain long enough to give a wobbly curtsey in the presence of the Crown Prince. Next to her, Von Bock bowed his head as well.

"Likewise, your majesty," Hanala returned as she stood up straight.

Louis Ferdinand appeared befuddled by Hanala's respect to customs. His arms were crossed over his chest as he turned his amused but pointed look from Hanala, and over to Von Bock, who did not meet his gaze. The Crown Prince rolled his eyes.

"Let me take a wild guess and presume that this was Fedor's doing," Louis quibbled as he stepped forward to Hanala. "He has an obsession with returning the monarchy back to tradition. According to him, the only way to earn back the trust of the people is a twenty year memory wipe; where all the people already know to defer to the Kaiser. Unfortunately that is not possible."

Next to Hanala, the Generalfeldmarschall stiffened as he finally looked at his Crown Prince directly in the eye.

"With all due respect, your majesty, but following our disastrous experiment with republicanism, it is only right that we return back to a system that we know," he spoke politely as he could. "In order to restore that, the grace and awe of the crown, respect for your title must be re-established… even when it comes to quarians."

"The Generalfeldmarschall was right to want respect to be given to you. It was the least I can do," Hanala interjected, supporting the Generalfeldmarschall mere out of diplomatic reasons. Looking around again, she added. "On another note, this is quite the lovely home, sir."

Louis Ferdinand blinked at her compliment. He did not seem too particularly interested in it.

"It's a glorified mausoleum, Admiral Jarva," he retorted, his voice still humoured.

As Hanala felt herself fluster, the Crown Prince gestured to Hanala to join his wife and him by the fire. Still the Grand Duchess did not look up from her knitting as Hanala was instructed by Louis Ferdinand to sit next to her. Like the Crown Prince before her, Hanala too curtsied to the future Empress. Yet again there was no acknowledgement of Hanala's existence.

"It will be good to return back to civilization, back to Berlin. This hiding is… troublesome… I was just getting used to being relevant when they whisked me off here of all places," Louis addressed Hanala with a smile as he sat down across her in a single chair. "Now I sit here, brooding and plotting. I am deplored to say this, but I think I know understand how Hitler felt in his time spent in Landsberg."

Hanala forced herself to laugh at the comment. She wasn't really in the mood to empathize with Adolf Hitler at the moment. She remained in silence as the Crown Prince leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"The Wehrmacht Council has informed me that the west has decided to negotiate with us for a separate peace of sorts. They have chosen Casablanca of all places to make a deal," he spoke up again. "I want to be there, Admiral Jarva. More than anything I want to be there. As I will be the Head of State before long, it will be up to me to show the Allied powers that this is a very different Germany."

Hanala nodded in agreement.

"I imagine your presence would put Winston Churchill at ease when he's staring at a table full of German generals," Hanala conceded to him. "He may be more receptive since he is a monarchist, but in the end we have dashed all their plans, and they will very likely pay for it with their political life. They will not be so forthcoming to agree with anything you propose."

Leaning backwards into his seat, Louis folded his fingers together and rested them in his lap.

"If the British are not hostile, so be it, but I will not bend over to English antipathy to Germany. They are a dying power and this war is their final glorious hour. No, it is paramount that Germany and America must be united in a friendship," Louis spoke, dismissing the British altogether. "American leadership must understand that they are endangered by our common foe: The Soviets. Surely Mr. Roosevelt is not a man who does not think before he acts. Surely he can be persuaded to see that his alliance with Stalin is poisonous. He was a good man in the time I was acquainted with him, and I cannot imagine a scenario where the war has altered him that much..."

Hanala had many things to say about his idealistic logic, but Hanala was not sure just how to express it in a delicate manner. Thankfully she did not have to. Standing next to the fireplace was Fedor von Bock. He had cleared his throat, forcing Louis to turn away from his quarian confidant.

"He may be a good man in your past, but Roosevelt is not your friend, sir," the Prussian Junker spoke quite carefully. "But he's still an elected statesman who told his nation that there would not be peace until America was marching into Berlin. He has surrounded himself with men who want nothing more than to see the death of Germany. Anything less and like Churchill, his legacy is broken."

Crossing one leg over the other, Hanala folded her hands together as the future Kaiser looked at her for her opinion.

"I'm inclined to agree with the Generalfeldmarschall, sir. Everything that is about to unfold is going to cause major fractures in any chance at a friendly diplomacy between the two nations, which will likely never be fixed in our lifetimes," Hanala backed up Fedor. "As friendly as you may have been with Roosevelt, the Wehrmacht is not going to be kind to the other side. They will push and push until they get as much as they possibly can from the Allied powers. They need to take as much as they can and direct it against the Soviets."

"It gets worse," Fedor spoke immediately, not allowing a pause to occur. "I heard rumblings about a partial disarmament of Great Britain and America clause that Gerd von Rundstedt is drafting up. He wants to take their tanks, artillery and ammunition from the North Africa Front and send it to arm the foreign volunteers in Russia…"

A partial disarmament… Keelah, that had to have been something thought up by Zorah. It was clear that the Americans and British were operating with a Germany first policy. America could handle the loss of all that equipment, naturally, but the British would be devastated by the loss. It would take years to replace the losses and would make the Dunkirk and Ariel a minor setback for the British. It would make their standing war against the Japanese that much more difficult, if not they would take up merely a supporting role while the Americans pushed into the Pacific.

"It sounds like something Admiral Zorah will push, if not was the one who put the concept into Gerd's head," Hanala spoke again to Louis. "If that turns out to be the plan, that will only further drive the west away from us."

Louis Ferdinand appeared rather upset by the disagreement of the assessment made by his two advisors. Still, he did not appear to want to voice it. The truth was a difficult thing to digest, something Hanala knew all too well.

"Then I will do all in my power to stop this from happening, or at the very least soften the damage it will do," Louis spoke finally, his resolve staying strong. "Whatever the case my commitment to being there is still firm; I will not be shaken up Roosevelt or Churchill... nor by the Wehrmacht."

Hanala's mouth formed into an encouraging smile at his resolve.

"Neither of us will stop you. You know we have our full confidence in you," Hanala reassured the Crown Prince. "Someone has to speak on behalf of the common German civilian, and you are one of the few untainted man left capable of doing so."

Without warning, Louis stood from his seat and turned as he took a few steps away from the seat. Hanala remained sitting until Hanala noticed Fedor's eyes widened as his hand gestured in what she assumed was to get her to stand. She obliged and stood up, her hands behind her back as she stared at the back of the future Kaiser's head. She was growing weary of this protocol.

"Kings from era's long past gained the loyalty of their subjects through bloody conflict -bringing victory over vanquished foes serving justice without batting an eyelash," Louis spoke finally in a low murmur. He turned back to Hanala. His expression resolved as he added. "I do not intend on becoming that sort of Kaiser. The Wehrmacht has shed more than enough blood and I shall not add to it, nor I shall not become a raving lunatic like my Grandfather before he was finally humbled in 1918…"

Trailing off as he took a breath, he took a step back towards Hanala.

"I will bring something different; I will put all my efforts into lifting this sick nation back to its feet. The people will be fed, they will have adequate housing, they will remember a time before this civil war," he pressed on. "I shall also ensure that the National Socialists will be trialled fairly –not show trialled like the Wehrmacht wants, but be permitted to make their case, and most importantly of all. I will make the war in the east not one of domination and eradication, but of liberation."

For the first time in the whole conversation, the Grand Duchess, or rather, the newly minted Princess Kira glanced up from her needle work and into her husband's eyes. There was an almost warmness in her expression. It had been her family that was murdered or driven out of Russia during the Bolshevik revolution. So many innocent people murdered by revolutionaries thinking Lenin would bring the common Russian a new era of prosperity.

"Tsarist Russia may no longer be possible, but a strong, independent Russian Federation can thrive and benefit the people trapped under Stalin and Bolshevism's cruel thumb," Louis spoke again, though it was directed to his wife in particular. "It was war and German hatred of Tsarist Russia that Lenin was sent to Russia. It will be German blood that will pay back the cruelty."

Hanala bit her lip for a moment before she stepped forward to be within an arm's length of the future Monarch. The movement forced Louis to turn away from his wife and to the quarian again.

"These are admirable ambitions, sir, but there must be first steps and I suggest that it is time that you leave the confines of this safe haven," Hanala suggested to the Crown Prince. "Visit your people before you go to Casablanca. Germans must see that they have a future other than conflict before peace is negotiated. They have to see that there is hope in your vision. They need to know that you will lead them back out of this hell."

Louis remained silent as he absorbed her suggestion. His mouth tightened up and he slowly nodded.

"Yes Admiral Jarva, you are right," he agreed with her. He paused and turned to Fedor and added. "I would like you to arrange a tour. Not just of the cities hardest hit, but of the camps the SS set up for the so-called undesirables. I need to see these nightmares myself..."

As Fedor von Bock bowed in acknowledgement, Hanala could not help but be heartened that the head of state was not going to hide away from the hell his subjects were enduring, and not just the strictly German ones either.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It had been several days now into the uneasy peace. Still, Joachim remained uncomfortable with it. It was still too quiet.

Hanala had returned home to Kiel after her meeting with the future Kaiser elated. Apparently the man wanted to end his hiding and come and meet the common people. It was all very impressive to say the least. Whether Louis Ferdinand would stay true to all the talk he had filled Hanala's head with would be a separate matter altogether; he was not hold his breath that the Hohenzollern family changed that much over the back twenty odd years since they fled.

Now that Hanala was back in Kiel, Joachim returned properly back to his job aiding in the training of Falinau Division. Or so that had been the plan. He was in the middle of drill exercises when a middle aged Feldwebel approached him. He was a runner for Gerd von Rundstedt. He said that training would have to wait. It was peculiar considering that the old man had the technological means to communicate with him.

Still, like the good soldier he was, he climbed into the side of the Kübelwagen and left the training grounds in the hands of Stauffenberg. Fuming as he knew what this had to be: something political. A trait Joachim was not very good at to say the least.

The meeting was being held in an old industrial corner of the city. One of the many nameless warehouses that used to store spare ship parts for the Imperial German Navy. Now abandoned and damaged, they now seemed to serve a new purpose: some sort of strange staging grounds for three separate affiliations. Nothing about it was right.

The first group was Heer troops. All of them armed with the latest contemporary German equipment, they were talking, smoking and standing guard. All of them stood up straight the moment the Oberst past them by.

The second group was black armoured quarians. They were not in environmental suits these quarians possessed full body armour and rifles at the ready. They were different then the sloppy, green Falinau Division. These were commandos of some sort, and they appeared to be ready to spill blood if need be.

The third group was wearing a strange mismatch of quarian and German gear. Like the quarians, they too were Commandos and assault troops. They were Waffen-SS men. Each and every one of them was on guard. All of their eyes were narrowed at Joachim the traitor. Still, none of them said anything.

A bad feeling suddenly hit the pit of Joachim's stomach once again. Whatever was happening here couldn't have been good. Like an idiot, he ignored it.

As he stepped inside, he was immediately greeted by Gerd von Rundstedt, whom reached out and took the younger soldier by the hand. Next to him was Halid'Zorah. Bruised and battered still, he was not particularly thrilled to be in Hoch's presence again.

"I apologize for the short notice, but we require your help," Von Rundstedt was the first to speak.

With that he and Zorah stepped out of the way of Joachim's line of sight. Sitting there across a table was none other than the two men Joachim hated the most: Ernst Kaltenbrunner and Otto Skorzeny.

"And why are these two bastards doing here!?" Joachim hissed at the two unwelcomed occupants in the room.

There was no response from Otto Skorzeny, who held his eyes low in apparent contemplation. There was not even a retort from Kaltenbrunner either, who remained silent as he smoked. The only thing Kaltenbrunner did was turn around in his seat and flicked his ashes at the figure strung up like dead cattle.

Joachim squinted at first and then his eyes bulged out as he realized who it was. Hanging there was none other than Heinrich Himmler. His eyes covered, his mouth gagged and his clothing drenched in dried blood. This was… this was an unbelievable sight to say the least. Joachim had always believed that Himmler would never end up like this. He was too slimy. Either he would have fled or killed himself the moment he was cornered.

Worst yet there sat Ernst Kaltenbrunner in front of Himmler, staring right back at Hoch, a look of triumph in his eyes as though he were some big game hunter who had brought in the score of a lifetime. He was relishing his personal triumph over his rival.

Skorzeny was a whole separate matter altogether. Gone were all the traces of his superiority following his rescue of Hitler and rubbing it in Hoch's face. At first Hoch thought that the quarians killing of Hitler broke him, but no… there was something deeper going on. In his expression was one was great self-loathing. It was the same look Joachim woke up to long after the death of the Langer family, even today.

The long, awkward silence was finally broken, and it was Halid'Zorah who did it.

"Every man in this room has a mutual interest in demise of Reinhard Heydrich. Heydrich represents the last serious National Socialist threat left in Germany," Zorah addressed the room. "If he lives and is captured, he will provide the last real defiant justification of the SS, if he lives and escapes, he will serve a constant external threat. National Socialists are fleeing as we speak. It is far better that Kaltenbrunner controls them instead."

So this was what was happening. This was a targeted assassination sort of meeting. Joachim had had his fill of them, but this was something else. This was his true vengeance. After months of stewing in the agony of Heydrich's kill order, the call had come in and he was now finally going to be a part of the operation that got him justice for the Langer's, for the death of Saleb's parents.

As elated as he might have been, the thought of Kaltenbrunner somewhere out there controlling the National Socialist remnants for Zorah and the Wehrmacht perturbed him greatly. God knows the amount of damage they could do in the future.

"The future will require dirty hands in the mud and blood. Something neither the German or quarian governments will want to be involved in," Kaltenbrunner spoke up to Hoch. "The presentation of Himmler to the Wehrmacht is evidence enough that National Socialists can still serve a valuable asset. Destroying us now could seriously unravel the dreams and aspirations of a German and quarian influenced world."

Kaltenbrunner paused for just a moment. His mouth formed into an awful smirk.

Joachim gritted his teeth. Before Joachim could reach for his gun and prove the fucker wrong, Gerd von Rundstedt banged his hand hard on the table. The noise made everyone but Skorzeny turn to face the elder Prussian.

"Kaltenbrunner shut up or I'll permit Hoch to kill you," Von Rundstedt warned the former head of the RSHA, his finger pointing menacingly at the Austrian shit disturber. Satisfied the situation was pacified, he added, "Now according to Kaltenbrunner, Heydrich had his cybernetic implanted lung removed. The implants became a detriment to his health. The quarians in their infinite wisdom were hoping that his collapse would come eventually, but now that is no longer the case."

Joachim could not believe what he was hearing. Heydrich survived the assassination attempt only by the mercy of the quarians? Of all the foolish, idiotic moves they could have made they went ahead and really fouled it up.

"It seems like it would have been easier if you shot him in the head, or let him die on the operation table… or let the Slovakians do their jobs," Joachim spoke up. His words directed to Zorah.

"My sentiments exactly," Kaltenbrunner tacked in. "What is this world coming to when we can see eye to eye."

Shooting a warning look to Kaltenbrunner, Zorah turned back to Hoch.

"We're not perfect, Joachim. We aren't a psychic people, capable of predicting everything that occurs," Zorah replied, his tone strained and curt. "Heydrich was a brilliant mind, one we thought we could use. This was before the full scope of his work was shown to us. Before we knew really what the National Socialist were doing."

Joachim rolled his eyes.

"I guess that explains why this egotistical blowhard managed to attack the _Kareon_ ," Joachim shot back, gesturing to Skorzeny. "Incompetency is not a definitively human trait."

Skorzeny still did not look up at the insult, Kaltenbrunner merely smirked and Zorah appeared to be close to exploding. It was up to Gerd to save the meeting from derailing into genuine violence between Hoch and Zorah.

"Whether we like it or not, Ernst is correct. Kaltenbrunner and Skorzeny represent the National Socialists that we can make a deal with in private," Gerd hastily changed subjects. "They will not have an official part in the new German state. They intend on becoming… freelancers of sorts… and their first test will be the elimination of Heydrich."

Glaring at Kaltenbrunner still, Joachim turned back to Halid.

"Did you forget what he did to the _Kareon_?" he reminded the tricky Admiral. "How many men and women were killed in that attack? For Christ sake he abducted you!"

Joachim stopped short of mentioning what Skorzeny did to Hanala. That he savagely assaulted her, that he abducted her abducted Saleb as well. He did not want to appear too personal about the subject. Instead he exhaled hard and reached for his cigarettes. This conversation was growing more and more insane.

"It would have been many times worse had Skorzeny obeyed his official directives from Himmler and deployed an experimental Nerve gas against the quarians," Rundstedt retorted as Joachim lit up. "A fact confirmed as of two hours ago."

"And Emmi Skorzeny paid for this display of mercy with her blood," Kaltenbrunner interjected.

The comment by Kaltenbrunner made the room dead silent. His blood running cold, Hoch turned to look to Skorzeny. His eyes softened somewhat at the sight of the commando sitting there. His hands holding his head down and appeared to be in a state of catatonia.

For the second time in his life, Skorzeny disobeyed a direct order. The first time was sparing the British commando Jack Churchill, this time refusing to gas quarians. He got away with the first disobedience, but the second one got people killed. Someone whom Skorzeny clearly loved killed. As much as he absolutely hated the fucker for killing Rael'Jarva, a moment - just one single moment- sympathy spread into Hoch. It was a moment he quickly crushed before it festered into empathy.

"It's time to finish what those Slovakian assassins started," Zorah again broke the silence. "Under the cover of the newly started Siege of Berlin, we will be inserting Skorzeny and a team of my men into Berlin. They will link up with Vampyr resistance group and they will push to the last known location of Heydrich... Prinz-Albrecht-Straße."

 _Prinz-Albrecht-Straße… no fucking way… They couldn't have been serious…_

"The RSHA headquarters… you want to break into most likely the last headquarters of the loyalists with a small team?" Joachim breathed to the other. "Let me guess, you have volunteered me as the official Wehrmacht presence."

Although every man was looking at him now, only Von Rundstedt nodded gravely.

"As ranking officer you will be taking charge," Gerd spoke up. "This time it will not be a repeat of the Hitler operation. As stated before he does not leave alive. Heydrich is to be killed if he presents resistance, or summarily executed if he surrenders."

"Can we count on you to obey this time?" Zorah tacked on. His eyes narrowed at Hoch. It was clear there was still a great deal of dislike for the Oberst.

Looking between Kaltenbrunner and Skorzeny for a good long moment, Joachim turned back to Zorah and Von Rundstedt and nodded his head. As they stood up, Zorah gestured to Kaltenbrunner, who nodded and snapped his fingers to the SS men he brought. One stepped forward and cut the rope Himmler was dangling from and watched as the disgraced former Reichsführer hit the concrete hard.

As Von Rundstedt, Zorah and Kaltenbrunner gathered the prisoner, Hoch remained still. His eyes turned back to Skorzeny, who was still staring at the wall with his dead eyes. Exhaling Hoch stepped forward and leaned down onto the edge of the table.

"So, he killed your wife," Hoch spoke, summoning what little sympathy he could spare. "Terrible thing isn't it? Losing the ones you love and cherish for doing what is right…"

Skorzeny broke his distant stare and looked at Hoch finally. His eyes were watery, but he held firm. He would not react to Joachim's prodding. Joachim decided against going any further. Somewhat satisfied that Skorzeny finally understood, he pushed himself off the table and left the Austrian to stew in the misery Joachim himself was only just starting to pull himself out of.

 ** _…_**

* * *

 ** _…_**

 **Changes: Clean up, scene removal**

 **I think that should be enough. Two long chapters to go.**


	22. Hell in Fortress Berlin

**Chapter Twenty Two: Hell in Fortress Berlin**

 **…**

Laying there, staring at the ceiling, Joachim could not have felt more scared in his life.

The raid was less than six hours away now. Everyone involved in the raid preferred it was before dawn, but it was decided by the higher ups that it would coincide with the first pincer movement against Berlin. For the first time, Gerd von Rundstedt managed to convince Eric von Manstein to fly back from Russia and take command of the operation.

It wasn't even a secret. The SS and loyalists knew that they were in trouble when the Reich's most able Army Group commandant was assigned to tear them out of their stronghold.

While this happened, Zorah and Alaan'Jarva would begin what they called Operation Berlin. Quarian commando units would be unleashed over the city. Working in small packs, they would sabotage defense points, ambush reinforcements and cause chaos with operational ability of the fortress city. While Vampyr did an admirable job, they lacked the professional Special Forces abilities possessed by the quarians… whatever that meant.

As this was happening in went Joachim's team. They would link up with Vampyr's co-leader Heinz Heydrich, whom had apparently replaced his typewriter for a submachine gun and organized the citywide resistance. He was keeping a good eye on the movements of his brother, but between his manpower thinned by city wide attacks, he could never do anything about him. Now that day would be coming and Joachim intended on inviting Heydrich to put an end to his brother's madness and attempt to restore the good name he damaged.

"You give me twenty minutes and I'll have you reassigned to Louis Ferdinand's staff. You will never have to see action again."

Joachim rolled onto his side and found Hanala laying her side as well, her hand propping up her head and the blanket she wore barely covering her body. Her bright eyes were narrowed at him. Through the light candles set up in the room, Joachim could see have bruise and gash Skorzeny marked on her body. They clashed with her any shrapnel scars marking her pale flesh, making her look close to falling apart altogether

To say it made Joachim infuriated that he was now about to work with the bastard would be an understatement. Openly Joachim plotted to accidentally take him out during the inevitable chaos that would ensue when they hit Berlin. One shot in the back of the head and it would drastically setback whatever the hell Kaltenbrunner was up to and the Wehrmacht leadership and quarian admiralty quietly supported.

The only thing stopping him was the still lingering empathy he felt for the grieving father. He wanted nothing more than to view him as some inhuman monster who participated in the mass reprisal attacks following the capture of Hitler. But that was simply not happening. The loss of his wife forced Joachim to see that Skorzeny was in a situation that wasn't much different than his: his loyalty being used for others.

Quietly Joachim pushed his body a little closer to Hanala and wrapped his arm around her waist. For a fraction of a moment Hanala smiled, but then reverted back into her stoic expression. She did not want to let this matter die over simple affection.

"That's… tempting," he admitted to her finally, his fingers tapping against her spine. "I might take up that offer, but not now. You and I both know I need to see this through."

Hanala shook her head wildly.

"No you don't," Hanala replied right back, her mouth forming a frown. "When has vengeance ever done you any good? When has it ever made your life easier? Vengeance hasn't done anything other than be detrimental to your recovery. The Langer's are still dead, my Brother and Veyare are still d-dead."

Hanala's stutter caught Joachim off-guard. He was about to respond with the same amount of force as she when he realized just how upset she was by all of this. For a woman who made a point to not be vulnerable, she certainly had forgotten that now. She appeared to be near tears, sick with worry for what was about to happen soon.

As Joachim reached out to touch her again, Hanala smacked his hand away and crawled out of bed with a groan. She turned back to face him, unashamed of her own nudity. Her shimmering eyes were furious once again as she stared at him.

"They are gone, Joachim and no amount of men you kill will change that…" she finished curtly. "Not even killing the man who ordered it changes that..."

An uneasy silence fell between the two of them. Joachim had to admit he wanted to do nothing more than shout and furiously deny what she was saying. Yes, vengeance was a key factor in his decision, but there was more to it than just extracting a response on the source of almost all his problems. And there was.

"This isn't just about vengeance. I tried vengeance and it has never worked for me, I've learned that for a while now," he reminded Hanala as he slid over her side of the bed and pulled himself up to sit. "This is about seeing an end to this war. Heydrich falls, the SS collapses on itself. The SS collapses, so does its threats that keep the loyalists loyal. Without the loyalists, the government collapses and without the government, the people have no other option then too fall in line with the next most legitimate governance -your Kaiser."

Hanala held her eyes hard on Joachim, and then out of nowhere pouted.

"I don't dispute anything you said," she mumbled, clearly annoyed. "Keelah, you know that I want Heydrich dead as well; but does it always have to be you?"

Joachim did not reply. He offered her a faint apologetic smile as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He felt her hand come out and wrap around the back of head. Gently she pulled him down to meet his lips in a welcomed embrace. As he pulled back to lie down once more, Hanala shuffled back towards him, her arms wrapped around him to make him her personal bed warmer. He could not help but feel his own fears alleviate… at least for that moment.

"I was speaking to Saleb," Joachim spoke up suddenly, surprising himself. "She said that sometimes Rael and Veyare would change… _well_ … traditional gender roles…"

Hanala's closed eyes and purring stopped. He eyes snapped open as she stared at Joachim like he was losing his mind.

"I will make you a deal, Hanala," Joachim continued, holding his eyes on her as he pressed on at a low, neutral tone. "I'll do this operation with no further protests on your part and in return I'll call in a favour I'm owed by Manstein. I'll go into the officer pool for a few years. I'll… tend to the child while you maintain your position... "

Hanala stared at him widely. She knew what this offer was. It meant that Joachim would be pulled off active duty for the duration of the upcoming renewal of the German push into the Soviet Union. He would not risk his life any further, at least for the foreseeable future. He would have time to recover from the mental wounds Hanala lamented about.

" _You would_?" she breathed, as though it was a dream in which she feared to wake up from. _"You would do that?"_

Joachim stared at her for a moment. Then he nodded curtly.

"I have stipulations," he informed her sternly. "For starters you cannot continue being an Admiral for free. Demand to be paid, and if that can't happen right away, convince the Crown Prince to open his pockets and pay you for keeping him out of Zorah's grasp. Advisors are not charity worke-"

He did not get a chance to finish off about his personal displeasure at seeing Hanala living like a Bolshevik. Hanala pressed her lips tightly against his and pulled back as soon as she was sure he had been silenced.

"I… I can do that," Hanala agreed right away, her face brighter than it had been in days… no, months. "The great traditionalist Joachim Hoch, a stay-at-home guardian… Keelah, am I dreaming?"

It took all of Joachim's efforts not to smack the woman in the face with his pillow.

Christ, the things he did for her…

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It was nearly dawn when Otto Skorzeny woke up from his most tense and uncomfortable sleep he reckoned he had ever had. Sitting on the floor, his head rested against the knees of his little Waltraut.

His dreams were filled with regret and doubt now. His pursuit for fame and glory had gotten Emmi killed and he would likely never be able to forgive himself for it. Worst yet, they were killed not by the so-called enemy, they were killed by men he was aligned with, whom he shared their goals with. Men he fought and bled for to bring the Führer back in order to stop the civil war from spreading. Had he been out of the loop so long that he did not notice that the conflict grew so out of hand that men like Himmler and Heydrich thought they could be the next Führer?

How in the hell could this have happened? All of this seemed so out of place; and now he had paid for his ignorance with his wife's life, damn near Waltraut's life as well.

Rubbing his eyes, he leaned backwards into his seat, his hand continuing to clutch onto the unconscious child's. He would not allow this to happen again. The girl would be trained and she would be a frightening display of martial skill and discipline. In a world such as this, perhaps he would have to take a page from the quarian's book and train his daughter to take life, rather than lose it so easily.

"How's the child?"

Otto turned around to face the source of the question. His expression darkened as he realized it was Joachim Hoch standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed, his expression grim. He was not looking at Otto, but rather Waltraut with an expression of what almost seemed like concern for the child.

Standing up from his seat at his daughter's side, Otto placed himself in front of Waltraut and glared back at the younger man. Joachim broke his eye contact and held his hands up as though surrendering.

"I'm not trying to be smug, and I'm not trying to give you grief," Hoch addressed him once again. His tone was slightly flustered and defensive. "I'm not like your friend, Kaltenbrunner. In spite of your actions with Hanala's niece, I'm capable of being concerned for her."

Skorzeny did not reply to the charges Joachim was making against Ernst. Ernst had endgames. It would be understandable why Hoch did not trust them if they did not involve him. Exhaling, Otto turned away from Hoch and sat once again with his child. His hand once again reached out to take hers.

"They hung her on a short rope and a doorknob. Ernst had to smash out her window to get to her," Otto rumbled back as he looked down on his stirring little girl. "Her Mother's dead and she nearly died because of me… so how do you think she is?"

Hoch took another step forward.

"I think that once she is old enough to understand that what you did saved many lives, she will appreciate it," he returned, his voice filled with a respect never before shared with the other man. "I think she'll appreciate that you stood up for what you knew was right, and worked against men who wanted you to do wrong. Doing the right thing is rarely the easy path."

Something clicked. Something about the words Hoch had spoken suddenly provoked the Austrian into a state of furious annoyance. They were the right words, spoken the right way… but it just felt wrong.

"Right," Skorzeny snorted right back. "Just as the child you're raising will grow up to be thrilled that her parents died just so you could do the right thing."

Hoch froze up at the savage response Skorzeny shot back at him without mercy. To his credit, the North German managed to swallow his rage with little reaction. Instead he exhaled once again and stepped forward until there were only a few feet between the two of them. Without warning, the younger man broke down into a low mirthless laugh. It was a laugh belonging to a man who should have been many times older than he was.

As the handpicked executioner of a good portion of the SS leadership, this should have been expected, really.

"We've got a conflict of personalities between us…" Joachim pointed as he removed his gloves. "Under any other circumstances, I'd shoot you dead. Even if your wife is dead and your child injured."

As Joachim pocketed his gloves, Otto's eyes flickered down to the sight of the alien built machine hand clashing with his grey-green Heer uniform. Faintly he could hear the sound of machine joints moving.

"Instead I want to make you an offer: Everything we've done to each other is forgotten. At least until Heydrich is dead," Hoch pressed on to the sitting Austrian. "You have a daughter you need to care for, and I have a family now. I would prefer that we didn't stab each other in the back moments after Heydrich is dead… so we walk away and stay out of each other's paths."

Taking one final step forward, Hoch's human hand reached out to offer to Otto. It looked like a painful compromise from a man who dedicated a good portion of the year destroying everything that Skorzeny stood for.

"Do we have an accord?" Joachim asked plainly.

Skorzeny stared at the hand for a few seconds. If Hoch could swallow his pride long enough to compromise his position on Otto, then he supposed he could do the same as well.

"Agreed," Otto concurred, reaching out to shake Hoch's hand once before letting go.

Nodding, Hoch reached into his Jacket and pulled out a gold cigarette case. It was the case Heydrich used to convince Gerald Langer to attempt to execute Hoch. Joachim opened it and offered the contents to Skorzeny. Silently he took one, but not before nodding to the open door. The younger Oberst seemed quick to understand. The last thing Waltraut needed when her windpipe was damaged was cigarette smoke flowing through her body.

Quietly the two men walked out of the bedroom that had been improvised into a medical station for the girl and Otto closed the door behind them as Hoch lit their cigarettes. The silence remained heavy between the two men as inhaled smoke and stared at the opposite wall.

"I don't like you," Skorzeny addressed Hoch once again. "I think that you're self-righteous idiot that can be led around by the nose easily by quarian lies and half-truths… but I know you're not as bad a man as Kaltenbrunner likes to say. You managed to get out… I suppose in some ways I envy you."

Next to him, Joachim arched his brow. He was amused at the statement.

"And that's any better than you being led around by the nose of delusional National Socialists who actually thought that they could stop the quarian interference?" he retorted right back at Skorzeny without so much as missing a beat.

For the first time, Skorzeny simply had nothing to retort with. Hoch, as much as Otto hated to admit it, was right. They were both men used by more powerful men as a means to an end. However, unlike Hoch, he was still a man who believed in loyalty. He was not about to give up on that virtue so easily.

"It's not too late, Skorzeny," Hoch spoke up after the long pause, exhaling smoke wafting out of his mouth. "You _can_ get out… You _can_ still clear your name. You can take your child and start a new life out of the hands of Kaltenbrunner. If Kaltenbrunner cares about you, then it's only skin deep and ultimately for his benefit, not yours."

The insults to Kaltenbrunner's name made Skorzeny bristle once again. The grievances between the two men was to be expected, so he pointedly ignored the implication that the man who rescued his child would not have her… or his best interests in mind. Hoch was delusional if he thought he found his way out. Service to the alien menace was hardly a better choice.

"He saved my child. He has my loyalty," Otto responded as he stared ahead. "I do not allow my wishes to override my reality. This was my decision made long ago. I will now live with the results."

Joachim did not reply. He instead held an intense, pitying stare as though there had been some point in his life where he was in the exact same mind frame as the Austrian was currently. It was a silent questioning of Skorzeny's logic that made him uncomfortable.

"Even if I did, this this not the same Fatherland I swore to defend," he suddenly erupted, the sudden ting of betrayal washing away quickly. "This is… something else… something wrong. We're no longer masters of our own fate, we sold our identity out to beings who offered us a technology, like the English, Dutch and the French did to the American Indian not so long ago. Losing making our own destiny scares me, and it should be scaring you as well."

Hoch blinked.

"We were at the mercy of the whims of a dictator who permitted us to nearly meet our doom at the hands of damn near half the planet," he pointed out. "I can't see how this path is any worse."

Biting his lip, Skorzeny chose to smoke and glare at the offending younger man. The traitor to the cause he swore his too, now his ally by convenience. Some of what Joachim was suggesting had a bit of merit he had to admit…

"Maybe you are right… but at least it was by our choice," Skorzeny replied as he tapped the ashes off his cigarette. "I believed in his vision… and considering how young you were to rise through the ranks of the Waffen-SS so quickly… so did you."

Joachim shifted uncomfortably. It became clearly apparent that his armour of self-righteousness had a chink in it. That chink was remembering just how dedicated he had been to the cause he now fought against. His teenage years spent in indoctrination, his early to mid-twenties serving as an ideological soldier, spreading war and death to all the state sanctioned enemies… all of this he did willingly.

After all the insults and smug moral high ground being flaunted before him, Skorzeny relished in the clear embarrassment that the turncoat National Socialist was stewing.

"In some ways I still do," Joachim finally admitted, much to Skorzeny's delight. "Much of the tenants of National Socialists are the core of my values. I doubt very much that it will ever be erased. Hell… I don't know if I can change."

Hoch paused for a moment. His mouth formed into a rueful smile as he shook his head.

"But Jesus Christ, I'm trying to change, Otto," he added. "I really do want to change."

With that, Joachim dropped his cigarette and stamped on it. He pulled on his cap and nodded respectfully to the stunned Skorzeny. He was stunned by the amount of self-hatred evident in the way he spoke about changing.

"Like I said…" Joachim called as he tucked his hands into his pockets and made his way out of the apartment. "Doing right is rarely an easy thing to do."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Double-checking his newly issued reinforced neck guard, Corporal Talar'Marni could not help but feel even more annoyed by the latest addition to the protective gear the Kalmari class armour system had received. It was damn near strangling him!

As he glanced around the room at his team, none of his squad mates seemed to have the same problems as he did. Perhaps he was just being whiny. He supposed this was just how he was dealing with his own trepidation of the upcoming mission. The fear that was bound to arise when he was only about an hour or so away from being thrown into the middle of a chaotic battlefield filled with human simpletons arms with huge guns and seething hatred for the changes quariankind was about to instil on them.

This was Talar's first mission with Panthar'a unit – a specially trained black operation clean up squad built by Admiral Halid'Zorah about twenty years ago. They were a unit designed for covert ops and hit and run missions against the real enemies of the state… most notably the turians. Panthar'a was quarian vengeance confined into one military unit. Eventually Panthar'a would begin the long planned implosion of the Citadel Council and members. They would pit all the races against each other and make them as weak as the Council's exile and refusal for aid left the quarians.

That was what he signed up for –true vengeance against the races who allowed a race of billions to be whittled down to 17 million. He did not sign up to kill primitives. To say that that this was a disappointment would be an understatement. Oh, he was proud to serve the unit; it just seemed like such a waste of their talents. This was something the Marine Corps or the newly reactivated army should have been doing.

A shove on the shoulder broke him off from his musings. He turned back and found Sergeant Alon'Idez standing there with a large grin on his face.

"I thought all armour systems had a mounted camera for combat support from over watch," Talar commented idly as he finished strapping on his arm plating.

"They do… just not for us," Alon replied as he took a seat and sipped on his bottle of water. "The last thing there needs to be is a record of our activities. We only answer to two entities –Admiral Zorah while we live and the Ancestors when we leave."

Talar could not help but roll his eyes. That was a phrase drilled into his head the moment he left the marines and begun his first day of training. It was a phrase that left him somewhat nervous. He had always been taught by everyone –from his parents who died in the second offensive against the geth, to his drill instructor- that accountability was everything. He supposed he still had to get used to virtually zero oversight. `

Chuckling, the Sergeant crossed one leg over the other as he set his water bottle to one side.

"You ready for this kid?" Alon inquired. Talar shrugged slightly as he finished his upper armour fitting.

"I suppose I have no other reply other than 'Yes sir, this is what I've been waiting for, sir'," was Talar's reply, earning a crooked grin from the Sergeant. "But frankly, I trained to fight turians, sir. Not these creatures… they seem so… well… unbelievably _stupid_ …"

Talar glanced in the direction of outside of the quarian prep area. Standing there was three humans. One of them was lanky and remained in a civilian suit; the second was surrounded by quarian engineers and technicians attempting to teach him how to use the suit. He was big and relatively rotund. Not fat… he was built like a miniature krogan.

The third man was a bit of an entity. He knew how to put quarian armour on by himself, but there was one technician standing with him seemingly explaining how to use the features of the armour. He was more proportionate than the first human that joined him. He heard a whisper that it was a man named Joachim Hoch. He was the one who was in charge of the infiltration and assassination operation.

"Just think of them as turians without a technologic advantage, but do not underestimate them either," Alon spoke, bringing Talar attention back to him. "What they lack in sophistication of weaponry they make up for with sheer killing power. These are the same species that killed hundreds not long ago, and attacked the Kareon and killed dozens."

"Listen to the Sergeant, Corporal."

Talar instantly stood at a state of attention while Alon did not. Standing there was Major Mala'Hautar, the squad leader and second only to the German Colonel leading the mission.

A veteran of the second offensive, at the age of seventeen Mala'Hautar came back horribly scarred and burned and an arm and a leg missing. The evidence was still present even twenty years later. A haunted expression was permanently etched into her face. It was an expression that clearly showed just how much she was willing to sacrifice to defend her people.

As she stepped forward to stand face to face with the Talar, she tilted her head to inspect the new meat standing in front of her.

"I know you might be tempted for leniency," Hautar finally spoke, her voice gravelly as she did not blink at the suddenly terrified younger man. "They are, after all, a primitive people and perhaps they do not know better… but this op is not about lenient. We are there to eliminate everyone who strays into our path. No one in that building is innocent. Clear?"

" _ **Admirals present**_!" shouted out Corporal Uran, thankfully saving Talar from a response to the Major.

Sure enough entering the warehouse was Admirals Halid'Zorah and Alaan'Jarva, as well as several high ranking human military men. . Of the two, the only one to address them was Admiral Zorah. Alaan'Jarva continued his brisk pace pass the black ops team with the humans. Their attention was on the three humans in the middle of the open space.

It did not matter to Talar, or anyone else in the team. The Father of Panthar'a unit was here to see them off. He was smiling at them as though they were all his children. Talar could not help but feel a swelling of pride in chest to be standing in front of the one and only Halid'Zorah.

Still smiling, Zorah took a seat where Sergeant Idez had been sitting. His fingers laced together as he leaned back against the wall.

"Gather around and be at ease," Zorah requested to the men and women of the unit.

Zorah remained silent as the team of twenty all relaxed and took a seat around their guide, their mentor.

"As you should all know, I created Panthar'a unit with one goal in mind: clandestine operations against the many enemies of our people; and make no mistake we are a people who have made _many_ enemies over matters out of our own hands," Admiral Zorah addressed them. "It should not come to any of you as a surprise that since the beginning of the exile the other races have systematically worked to exclude our people from the galactic stage. Well, it finally worked and now we are gone, and it will be generations before we return."

The gathering murmured. This was clearly something they did not want to hear. Everything they had been taught was being casted away.

"Panthar'a squad's goal of vengeance must be set aside for the moment," Admiral Zorah continued, remaining patient in the face of the disappointment expressed. "We have a new future to build… an even greater vengeance then the few of us could ever hope to achieve. And humans… humans will be our partners… and our instrument of that great retribution."

Zorah stood up from his seat. The squad did the exact same out of respect to the Admiral. Quietly Zorah stepped towards Hautar. For the first time since he was placed under her command, the woman was smiling as Halid'Zorah approached her.

"The core group of one hundred whom I personally recruited and taught, who went on to teach you all, was taught and in turn taught you three virtues," Halid spoke as he stood next to Major Hautar and turned back to face the second and third generation recruits. "Mala… my favourite student, I want the virtues named."

 _ **"FORETHOUGHT, EXECUTION AND THROUGHNESS, SIR!"**_ she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Zorah smiled and patted Mara's shoulder like an impressed Father.

"Right you are…" he murmured as he stepped past her to look on all the younger faces.

"The Virtue of Forethought: Never acting on impulse," Zorah begun to list off. "By being deliberate in every move, your enemy's resolve will crumble when they realize what length you are willing to go to stop him.

The Virtue of Execution: The combat we age is not the combat conventional militaries wage. To them it is a slugging match; to us it is a fine dance honed over years of dedication…. Unfortunately, this mission will not call for that. I shudder to send you into this sort of combat, but without hesitation, I can name you as the best war ready unit in the quarian fleet. Whether that is a compliment, or a lament for the poor readiness for the rest of the quarian armed forces will be at your discretion…

Finally, The Virtue of Thoroughness: We do not leave traces of our activities behind for fear of public scrutiny. We have no time for politics and suitwetters. We are the tip of the blade, and the tip of the blade has no room for the hesitation of the weak."

Admiral Zorah paused for a moment, as if to give the unit time to allow the statement to sink in. The chuckling at the notion of peace feelers standing in the way of the unit made Zorah small smile widen slightly.

"You are not soldiers. You are not guided by military ethics or your own personal morals," he pressed on, reminding the gathering. "You signed onto this role to serve as tools to defend the few quarians that have survived the geth extermination. In order for them to survive the few of us must set aside convictions and commit actions that are… questionable, even to myself. They are, however, the necessary acts meant to further our own survival, but they will never need to know how it is they survive unscathed – by our sacrifice of blood and our souls. Today you will do our two species a great service. Collapsing this Reich happens today and it will be by your hand when it happens. The Ancestors will protect you and guide you through this. Once their military leadership is destroyed, the National Socialists will have nothing left to hold what remains of their Reich and so will begin honing this young people into the army we will need to destroy the geth… and perhaps one day punish the rest of the Council races for permitting us to die in the billions."

The chatter exploded around the gathering. All of it was excited. The prospects of training millions upon millions of humans to take up the quarian cause against the geth menace and the Council races? Perhaps being denied a chance to battle turians was not such a bad thing in the long run…

"I see a lot of smiles and jeers around here," Zorah spoke up, instantly silencing the men and women. "Take a good, long look at this young comrade of yours," he continued, gesturing to Talar suddenly. "He is exactly how you should all be feeling."

It took all of his efforts not the flush with embarrassment. He had thought he had a relatively good handle on his emotions, but apparently, Zorah was even better at detecting traces of fear, then he was at suppressing it.

"Humans have long since proven themselves far cleverer than they seem. It has been by foolish, sloppy mistakes on our part which they have proactively taken advantage of," the Admiral warned them. "As such it has led to the deaths of hundreds, including a standoff on the _Kareon_ , an act which committed by that man right there."

Zorah's finger gestured to the human built like a short krogan. _That_ was Otto Skorzeny? _The Menace of the Heavy Fleet_? How in the Ancestors good name had he not only managed to escape justice, but was now working side by side with them?

"Since Panthar'a unit's involvement in the human affairs, we have already lost a brother and a sister to them. Both of whom were killed by one man alone," the Admiral informed the gathering, destroying any and all cheer they may have had.

Exhaling, Admiral Zorah took a step back.

"Be careful out there, and come home safe. The future will need you all," he finished.

With a salute exchanged between the Admiral and the squad. Zorah turned to leave. When, for some reason, Talar's curiosity suddenly got the better of him.

"Sir," Talar decided to speak out. "What did we do to that human?"

Zorah stopped his departure and turned back slowly to face the source of the question. The question appeared to bother him, but he did not seem unreceptive to the query. Silently he held his eyes on Talar.

"Take a guess," Admiral Zorah replied quietly.

Talar bit his lip.

"We… we killed him in the spot, sir," Talar spoke shakily. "He killed two of us. It was the least he deserved."

Admiral Zorah remained silent for a moment, and then chuckled darkly.

"Yes he did kill two of us, and yes, he deserved his entrails to be pulled out of his stomach, but no we didn't kill him…" was Admiral Zorah's soft reply. "His name is Ernst Kaltenbrunner, and we're all working for him for the duration of the mission…"

Once again Halid pointed in the direction of Skorzeny. Only it was directed to the civilian looking man standing next to the commando. Unlike Skorzeny's aloofness, the man named Ernst Kaltenbrunner was staring right back at Zorah with a smirking expression of menacing contempt for the Admiral. It was clear the two men hated each other, but needed each other for their futures. This mission was but the first in the exchange of favours between them.

With everything now out on the table, Admiral Zorah left their company. Most likely off to get some fresh air. It was very likely that standing in the same room with Ernst Kaltenbrunner might lead to an inevitable showdown which he did not want to endure through.

Talar pried his eyes away and the squad went back to their business. He was instead found a new focus.

It was the only other human in the room just finished having his armour strapped on to his body. He was practicing moving in it. Since it was not the infamous Kareon raider Otto Skorzeny, it must have been the leader of the team, Joachim Hoch standing by himself. He looked… lost, confused and very much out of his element. Strange considering he had a rather vicious reputation to his name.

The doors to the briefing room opened, catching everyone's attention right away. In glided none other than Admiral Hanala'Jarva vas Bismarck. Out of uniform, she chose instead civilian garb – a long dress, her head covered in a Kaldeesh scarf and heavy looking glasses of human design meant to shield one's eyes against the bright Sol. In her hands was a specially fitted helmet.

She ignored the state of attention offered by the Special Forces unit. She ignored the glare coming from Admiral Zorah. She ignored the hatred pouring out of the two humans –Kaltenbrunner and Skorzeny. She instead smiled as Joachim Hoch stood up straighter as she stopped in front of him. There was a vast, vast height difference between the two of them. She smiled carefully, he did not. He remained brooding as she handed the helmet over to the human. Her free hand reached out to take a careful hold of his wrist.

That touch caught his attention. The Human looked at her and seemed to quirk his lips. His armoured hand touched against her scarf, making the young Admiral close her eyes and smile even wider.

From behind his helmet, Talar could not help but be slightly revolted by the implications of their personal contact. It was… wrong… Humans were primitive creatures that would be lifted into something respectable. Perhaps one day it would be normal, but that day was not today.

Turning his head to Sergeant Idez, all the veteran could do was chuckle as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Come on kid," he said. "Let's get out to the transport."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"This is your pilot speaking. We are two minutes out of the landing zone. Opening the side doors, prepare for a speed drop."_

The words brought Joachim back to a state of attention, as it did the others. As the doors opened, the silence of the passenger bay was replaced with the screaming of the wind and explosions. Hacking as the wind mixed with cigarette smoke, he dropped his cigarette and stamped on it.

Silently he watched as one of the quarian commando's shuffle past him and stood by the opened doors to take a look outside.

" _Ancestors_ ," the quarian spoke over the communication channel. _"They're tearing themselves apart down there!"_

Exhaling as he allowed his curiosity to take over, Joachim stood up from his seat and stood next to the quarian, who glanced his way and stepped back to join his unit.

Sure enough the quarian was right. Gone was the city which held such majesty. Replacing it was a nightmare on par, if not worse than Kiel. A low fog of smoke hung over what remained of the city. The only lights which could be see were the fires and flashes of artillery being deployed against and from the city. On occasion Anti-Aircraft tracer fire cut through the smoke.

There was no Luftwaffe in the area for the anti-aircraft guns; no American and Anglo air presence either. The only aerial threat above the city was the two quarian ships, looming almost idle above Berlin blocking out much of the cities air space. The only sign of life was the many shuttle crafts moving to Berlin and back again. In a matter of moments, they could have ended all the resistance in the city, but apparently they were only there as weapons of fear and transportation for the quarian Special Forces being unleashed across the Capital.

Joachim pulled himself back inside and took a seat once again next to the only other human in the squad Otto Skorzeny.

Yes, he expected Berlin to be in bad shape, but still a cold shiver ran up his spine. It still bothered him that the National Socialist held onto their struggle even long after they stood no chance at a continuation. At this all of this needless, wanton destruction of German culture and the people was a tragedy, of which they would likely never be able to recover from.

Without any warning, the gravity seemed to shift as the transport stopped moving and made a sudden, rapid descent into the smoke fog. It took all of Joachim's efforts not to vomit at the rate of altitude drop he was experienced. He glanced back and found Skorzeny too was bothered by it as he fastened his helmet onto his head. The quarians on the other hand were trained in this. It did not bother them in the slightest.

As flak round exploded nearby the shuttle, the ship sped up until it came to a dead halt, nearly making Joachim vomit once again. The doors to the cockpit slid open and out stormed the co-pilot. He pushed by several commandos and activated a door panel. The side wall opened and out popped a heavy side gun, which he got behind

 _ **"We have touchdown,"**_ the co-pilot screamed at the passengers as the gun hummed to life. _**"Get moving now!"**_

It was all that was needed for the shuttle bay to oblige the co- pilot. Every man and woman stood up from their seats and filed out of the vehicle onto the concrete roof of the Hotel they were hovering only a foot above. The gun roared to life, spitting rapid fire out to where the incoming flak came from.

As Joachim jumped out and moved a metre away, the shuttle hummed and took off, still firing bright, blue tracer rounds. He watched as two quarians -presumably a sniper team broke off from the squad and settled down against the edge of the roof, and then vanished in thin air. They did not move from his sight. They simply vanished.

His fascination with the military applications of invisibility was cut prematurely. The roof door opened and the entire team directed their rifles on the three figures coming out to greet them. Taking immediate notice of the familiar face coming to greet them, Joachim lowered his rifle and stepped out in front of the rest of the quarians.

Tucking his pistol away, Heinz Heydrich co-leader of the Vampyr resistance group, approached the Special Forces team. His two Mauser armed guards remaining at the door. His grim expression formed into a grin as he approached his fellow SS deserter. As they reached each other, Heydrich offered his hand to Hoch, which he took.

"Welcome to Berlin… or what is left of it, Oberst," Heydrich greeted Hoch. "Come, follow me. The briefing room is not far now."

Heydrich stepped back and joined his resistance men once again. The squad of professional soldiers was not far behind him. Joachim lingered back for a few moments. He needed to pull on his helmet.

There was no glass to see through. According to the engineers, exposing any part of his head was considered a weak spot. Replacing his eyes were a dozen miniature cameras, which would then etch what the camera saw to the glass interface inside the helmet. As the screen came to life, Joachim had to admit himself impressed by it. It managed to filter out quite a bit of the dust and smoke that clouded his eyes the moment they touched down.

" _Finally!_ " a familiar voice spoke up, nearly making Joachim jump.

It was Hanala. What in the hell was she doing in his helmet!

 _"Don't reply until I teach you how to operate a private channel,"_ Hanala spoke quickly before he could reply and demand to know just what in the hell she was doing. _"And here I was thinking you would be too fashionable to wear a helmet. I'm glad to see you're taking your promises seriously."_

Without warning, a small, transparent screen lit up on the far top left side of the heads up display built into the helmet. Sitting there was indeed Hanala, who was smiling faintly at him. Apparently she was now able to see inside of his helmet as well. Joachim flared his nose as he followed the rest of the commandos into the staircase. This was going to be an annoyance. How quarians could stand this much electronic technology was beyond his understanding.

 _"There we go! I set up a private video link in your helmet screen and one of my own techies to hack into the Panthar'a unit's communication frequency. I'll see and hear whatever you see and hear,"_ Hanala explained as she smiled faintly. _"Zorah doesn't like records of his team existing. I figure it's about time a little oversight was brought to the surface. Might make a good blackmail tool..."_

Nodding inside his helmet, Joachim averted his eyes and made his way towards the staircase where Skorzeny stood waiting for him. Taking the hint, Hanala's video screen vanished from sight. Joachim ignored Skorzeny's head turning as he made his way inside.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The briefing room wasn't much of a briefing room.

Perhaps Joachim had expected too much from irregulars. Scattered around the room were maps, both tourist maps and hand drawn with scribbling's of patrol reports and unit strengths. There was only one military issue radio in the room and it was battered up hard and was receiving heavy static. Sitting behind the radio was a wide eyed kid frightened by the new arrivals.

Placing his rifle back on the magnetic strip on his soldier, Joachim pulled off his helmet once again and took a seat. Both Heydrich and Gerd von Rundstedt's son, Hans-Gerd did the same. The quarians and Skorzeny remained upright and on guard. Major Mala'Hautar opened one side of the blinds covering the window to peek.

"We've been preparing for this day for quite some," Heydrich started. His tone quivering slightly as he looked around at all the heavily armed aliens gathered in the room. "Berlin is the capital, and the last thing we need is it being turned into anymore rubble when the street fighting intensifies. So we have been blowing up roads and bridges to keep the loyalists locked up in separate sectors of the city."

Joachim rested his helmet on his lap his arms leaned on top of it.

"How many fighters do you have?" was his first question.

"Fourteen thousand and rising," was Heinz's proud response. "Still small, but entire Heer platoons have been deserting the loyalists at great personal risk. The more Heer troops we have the more it inspires civilians to join our side. How many quarians have been deployed?"

It took all of Joachim's effort not to frown at the size of Vampyr. Why in the hell hadn't they managed to recruit more? Fourteen thousand was a decent number, but nowhere near what was needed to be a serious threat to the embattled city garrison. Still, he would take whatever he could get.

"Two thousand quarian marines have been dropped, and more are being deployed," Joachim informed Hans-Gerd and Heinz. "Send out the message to stay out of their way. They're ruthless, cold blooded killers and they won't likely differentiate between the National Socialists and your resistance. If your men see them, they drop what they are doing and run in the other direction."

As Hans-Gerd von Rundstedt wrote down the information for transmission, Otto Skorzeny stepped forward.

"Do you have ground recon of the RSHA headquarters?" he demanded from the youngest Heydrich brother.

Heinz nodded. He reached into a binder and pulled out a hastily written note and handed it to Joachim. It appeared to have been a force projection and prediction of the defenders district by district.

"Locked down tight," Heinz informed Skorzeny. "There are about two dozen heavy anti-aircraft gun positions, machine gun nests, panzers and a garrison of whatever Waffen-SS troops that managed to flee east before they were locked down."

Hans-Gerd could not help but laugh.

"That's an understatement," he spoke to the room in general. "Two battalions of the 36th Waffen-SS Grenadier Division broke through the Heer blockade between the eastern territories and the Greater German Reich. They're in Berlin terrorizing the populace into compliancy. Vampyr recruitment has dropped seventy percent because of them."

Joachim's mouth curled up into an expression of disgust. He wasn't exactly why he did not know about the 36th Waffen-SS Grenadier Division back when he was a part of the Waffen-SS. Perhaps it was because he was in the elite by comparison _'Das Reich'_. However that changed when he began his service and was provided with information on the activities of the Waffen-SS. He saw all the atrocities they committed on behalf of the Allgemeine-SS.

But out of all the many divisions, and all of their crimes, the 36th Grenadier Division was quite possibly the most degenerate military unit ever built. The prisons of Germany were literally emptied in 1940 and put in the unit –thieves, rapists, murderers, arsonists, the criminally depraved given guns and told to keep the Polish from revolting. These tens of thousands of criminals who were led by one man Oskar Dirlewanger, a convicted paedophile and sadist, who whenever his division was sent to a new area to secure, the local Heer and fellow Waffen-SS divisional commandants would most assuredly issue protests. This reputation got even worse as when he was permitted to recruit Russian and Ukrainians into the unit.

It was hard to believe this drafting of criminals occurred, but it really was unsurprising. Germany needed all the manpower they could get. Still, it was one thing to separate the criminals and mix them amongst the many divisions. It was quite another to create an entire division with these degenerates.

"Not to mention the mix match of Wehrmacht loyalists, Hitlerjugend and Volksstrum troops –the bottom of the proverbial barrel," Hans-Gerd added, breaking Hoch's focus. "They don't even have a cohesive uniform system. I've seen them armed with everything they can get their hands on that isn't relegated to the conventional forces. Gewehr rifles from the last century, hunting shotguns…. Christ I saw one armed with a crossbow!"

Hoch arched his eyebrow at the armaments choice of the so-called Volksstrum. Slowly, a dark electronic laugh escaped Otto Skorzeny. The absurdity of this was getting out of hand so much so that even a man deep in mourning and a dangerous lust for vengeance could take a moment to be amused by it.

Not able to find the humour in zealously committing to a hopeless cause, Joachim could not understand how resistance could continue so doggedly. The garrisons in France, Denmark, Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg would likely be emptied soon to a minimal force to keep German dominance. It would not be long before Italy, Greece, Yugoslavia and the most of the Afrika Korps would be pulled from the occupation duties none of the Wehrmacht wanted to have anything to do with. At the minimum that was a million men freed up for service in the east.

The thing was that that million or so men and all their equipment would be returning back to the Fatherland for refitting and rest and then sent east. It would be a sure bet that Von Rundstedt would convince the Eastern Front to hold out a little while longer so that the million occupation troops could be thrown back into battle against the National Socialist remnants. That could not have been a state secret to anyone. Surely they knew that the siege of two hundred thousand was only the first stage. To the Prussians, Berlin could be reduced to ashes and wiped off the face of the Earth for all they cared. It was more than likely that Königsberg would soon become the new capital of the new Reich.

"How many men can you summon to the RSHA perimeter in three hours?" Joachim asked, turning his attention back to Heinz and Hans-Gerd.

The two academic types turned resistance fighters glanced at each other.

"Two thousand tops," Heinz spoke first. "Vampyr is trying to keep the defenders unstable, so diverting them to the assault would be a waste of manpower. The thing, we're mostly still irregulars. We don't have a lot of the training and certainly not enough ammunition to sustain a conventional distraction for long."

Joachim stood up from his seat and pulled his helmet back over his head.

"Well, you'll summon them regardless. We'll take whatever we can get," he spoke to the resistance fighters. He turned to the quarian Major and added. "Hautar, send a message to Zorah and tell him we need some of his fighters diverted to the headquarters to run distraction attacks at the same time as Vampyr. Get as many as you can."

Hautar's helmeted head stared at the Oberst. Saying nothing, she simply inclined her head and left the room for some privacy. With her gone, the demeanour of the quarian squad seemed to relax. Clearly this Hautar frightened the hell out of them.

Setting down his pencil, Heinz Heydrich looked up to Joachim.

"How is this mission playing out?" he inquired. His mouth tightened as though he knew the answer already. The question itself was simply the confirmation he needed.

Joachim did not reply to the question. Not when Skorzeny stepped forward until he enveloped all of Heinz's line of sight.

"There is no scenario in which your Brother escapes from this alive," was all that Skorzeny had to say on the subject.

Staring at Skorzeny for a moment longer, Heinz stood up and stepped around the vengeance driven Austrian. He stood in front of Hoch, who stared up at him expectantly.

"Oberst Hoch, I want to come with you," Heinz requested carefully. "I need to see this through. He's stained my family name and it's only right I play a part in bringing him down."

Joachim held his eyes on Heinz for a moment. He stood from his seat and extended his hand out to the resistance fighter.

"I suppose that I do owe you a favour," was all Hoch had to say on the subject.

Relieved that the Oberst approved, Heinz shook Joachim's hand heartily.

"That's great!" Heinz excitedly chattered. He grabbed his rifle and bandoleer before adding. "We'll move out now and take it slow until the distraction is in place. We got seven blocks between here and that nightmare. We better start moving."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _ **"Stay down!"**_

Staying low on the roof, Sophie Scholl crawled with Eckert, her rocket carrier at her side. She was trying not to pay attention to the rumbling of Panzers and trucks and the laughter and jeers of the men of the 36th Waffen-SS Grenadier Division and attempting her best resolve at not being absolutely frightened by them.

She had learned long ago that non-violent resistance led to nothing but death in a militarized state such as Adolf Hitler's Germany. She accepted that she would have to take up arms. She was convinced of it when the massacres begun in Berlin shortly after the killing of Joseph Goebbels. Thirty thousand men and women with so much as a suspicion of being involved in the activities of the Wehrmacht rebellion were strung up across the city. Their property burnt down and their children shipped off to… well… wherever they sent the Jews after their expulsion.

This may not have been her first battle, but this was… well… different. It was one thing to fight the Allgemeine-SS squads and the loyalists. They were me with relatively limited combat experience. The Loyalists, who were trained, more or less kept out of the path of Vampyr. Every day they grew more and more disillusioned as more and more of the officers found themselves at the mercy of SS reprisal squads who held their families in the Tiergarten as hostages held in an improvised camp to ensure their loyalty.

But this wasn't the Allgemeine-SS, or the loyalists. This was a Waffen-SS unit, who within minutes of arriving in Berlin begun a campaign of terror. Hundreds died as the commanding officer and his officers issued their threats about attempted capitulations to the inevitable. For them it was a battle to the death.

Peering over the balcony, she raised her binoculars to get a better look. The dozens of scraggly Waffen-SS men were standing around, watching as some of their kameraden were hanging executed Heer soldiers with large plaques around their necks –warnings to soldiers and civilians alike about capitulation to the Wehrmacht rebellion or to Vampyr collaboration.

This would be their first engagement against this group, which Heinz Heydrich frequently made it a point for them to avoid. Not only were they well-honed at breaking resistance groups with savage anti-partisan experience, the last thing he wanted to do was instigate the cutthroats into reprisals against anyone even partially working with Vampyr.

But now that delicateness was to come to an end. The quarian aliens were above Berlin and sending shock troops into the city and the Heer had now surrounded the city. It would be up to them to cause so much chaos that Berlin could be spared total destruction.

Behind her she felt Eckert gripping the end of the Panzerschreck as he fitted the rocket into the loading breech. His other hand patted her on the helmet. She turned back and found that around her, her squad were all up against the wall. Their Stielhandgranate's, rifles, pistols, submachine guns and one MG-34 were at the ready.

She took a deep breath. As she exhaled, Sophie pushed the Panzerschreck over the side of the roof, took aim and fired.

The rocket screamed as it hit the back of the Panzer III and tore the turret half off. The Waffen-SS troops below were quick to follow the exhaust trail and once they ducked into cover, returned fire with everything in their possession. They did not even so much as try to rescue their wounded, sprawled on the ground and caught in between the sporadic crossfire.

One man stepped out of cover and shortly after, a long burst of flames from his flammenwerfer hit the side of the building, spraying the structure with petrol and tar. The wave of fire was long enough to stretch just over the top of the building. Sophie and the squad fell back out of the range of sight.

 _ **"IS THAT ALL YOU GOT LITTLE REBELS?"**_ one of the Waffen-SS soldiers screamed up at them, his voice deranged.

Throwing the Panzerschreck to one side, Sophie took the MP-34 that was being offered to her. This structure was about to be stormed, and it was likely none of them would be escaping alive.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Taking down the latest battalion reports for the Volksstrum units in the Pankow district, Oberhelferin Karin Baum could not help but be nervous as the combat around the RSHA headquarters picked up suddenly.

It was not a little firefight. The radio sets around her ere screaming with action reports and casualty listings. Whatever that was happening was larger than that. Vampyr was rarely this bold enough to make a conventional attack on a military installation, the rebels were still outside of the city and… and the alien menace had not made a move despite their two massive vessels hovering about a kilometre over the city.

She did not want to be here, but she ultimately had no choice in the matter anymore. Her parents and siblings were starving, and it was not a secret that volunteers in the _Luftnachrichten Helferinnenschaft_ \- Corps of Women Signals Auxiliary - were far better paid than the drafted. That meant they would be more likely to stave off starvation caused by the blockade on Berlin.

She had expected… no, she was told, that to be sent to a radio control centre in Treptow… close to home where she could be able to keep an eye on her family, but that was not the case. Instead she was shipped to the den of the Loyalist war efforts, the RSHA headquarters. It felt so very wrong... the atmosphere, the way the SS spoke… it was all just very… off.

She was not a fool. She knew it was all over, but she kept it to herself. She feared retribution for treason. She had seen the reaction to defeatist talk, and it was enough to convince that it was better to just keep her head down, plough through the last days of the war, and take whatever punishment the Rebels had in mind, rather than the immediate death sentence she and her family would receive if she were to desert now.

 _"This is Dirlewanger!"_ the radio three down from hers screamed. _"My Division is being hit on all sides by the resistance. We are holding for the time being, but I suspect they are trying to break through to seize the RSHA building!"_

The door flew open, making Karin and her fellow operators jump in place.

In stormed none other than Reinhard Heydrich, his twisted up expression furious as he stormed towards the acting Army Group Commandant of Fortress Berlin. Generaloberst Ferdinand Schörner, to his credit, did not make a reaction to the rage of the SS- Obergruppenführer. He merely pushed up his glasses and then placed his hands behind his back.

"What in the _hell_ is happening out there?!" Heydrich demanded, his voice growing shrill as he stared at the tactical map. "You told me this was a stronghold!"

Generaloberst Schörner inclined his head.

"It is," he reassured the high ranking SS General. "Vampyr has directed a battalion strength movement against our eastern flank. We're holding, but they are directing captured vehicles in as support. It may get rough."

Heydrich stared at the map. His hands were shaking behind his back.

"And what will be done about it?"

Stepping forward to join the prematurely aging Heydrich, Schörner tapped on the map where the 14th Infantry Division was located.

"While the 36th SS Division holds their ground, I have begun to move elements of my own troops, which will encircle the rebels against the defense line here. The rebels will be slaughtered," he reassured the SS man confidently. "In the meantime, I suggest you move an infantry company or two to reinforce the flank."

From where Karin had been sitting, she heard the man give a sigh. Perhaps he finally understood that there was no longer a chance to win this! Perhaps he would finally capitulate!

"This situation is becoming untenable," Heydrich grumbled as he turned away. "Generaloberst, I want you to contact the chemical corps. Gas the outer lying parts of the city section by section in the north. That will discourage Vampyr from advancing any further. My brother… he has no stomach to allow others to suffer for his actions."

Heydrich left, leaving the Generaloberst to his orders and Karin in a state of shock that anyone could do such a thing…

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Peering through the cracks in the wall, Joachim watched as infantry and hanomags were being moved out of their position. It appeared as though the two hour delay had been worth it. Vampyr's attack on the Waffen-SS must have been going strong enough to warrant this sort of response.

 _"Well, they're moving troops out,"_ Hoch reported as he turned back to Heinz. _"Looks like your friends have arrived."_

The group remained on their chests, waiting until the infantry left their sights. Although they could not see the units, they would still have to be very careful about their final approach to the headquarters, which was now in sights and surrounded by the rubble of the surrounding buildings.

 _"Silencers on and hit everyone in our path hard and fast, we don't want a reaction force coming back,"_ Joachim informed the quarians and Skorzeny. _"Heinz stay behind us until we clear a path, understood?"_

As soon as Heydrich nodded, Joachim fiddled with the rifle until the weapon activated its built-in silencer feature. Hautar and her men were already standing up and ready to go when Skorzeny and Hoch were on their feet.

 _"Go,"_ Hoch ordered.

Hautar and the quarians erupted from the building, rushing the MG-42 nest head on. The two men operating the nest never had a chance. They were torn to pieces but the twenty aliens rushing their fixed position. There was no pause. The team moved out right away, ducking behind cover and staying prone as they worked up to their next position.

The group took cover as they reached the next street. They paused to regroup. The quarians fell into place. Joachim turned back to Heinz Heydrich

 _"Look!"_ one of the quarians shouted.

Joachim turned around and found a contingent of a dozen or so uniformed girls. Laughing with their back turned to the squad of quarians watching them in disbelief. All of them wore the patch of the BDM on their arms. Heydrich was so desperate for manpower that he had raided the girls club for fresh faces…

One of the girls turned her head, her eyes widened to saucers as she saw the squad knelt down fifty metres away from them.

 _ **"Take cover!"**_ she screamed to her fellow squad mates.

That was all that was required to get the girls bolt like well-disciplined soldiers. They threw themselves over the embankment they were using as a guard post. All expect for one girl who was lugging heavy equipment.

The last girl turned around right around. Her eyes were wide under her helmet. In her hands was the latest in disposal killing power developed as of late: the Panzerfaust 30, an anti-tank weapon designed so simply that a child could operate it… and sure enough they were.

Under any other circumstances, the quarians would have fired. Man or woman, it made no difference. But this was a child staring down the unit with a disposable rocket launcher in her hand, and none of them but Hoch and Skorzeny knew the extent of her indoctrination. Before Joachim could raise his weapon and take her down, the girl fired the weapon without much of a hesitation on her part.

The ground around Hoch and the squad exploded. The shields flared to life, blocking the kinetic force of the High Explosive weapon, but it was still enough force to kick just about everyone off their feet. With the ground smoking and the squad on the ground, the girl dropped the tube and bolted back to presumably where the Panzerfaust launchers were being stored. Her helmet flew off, allowing her long twin ponytails to flap in the wind behind her.

Struggling to get up and find his weapon as small arms fire came in from the BDM auxiliary, Joachim looked up and found that the only one on her feet was Major Mala'Hautar, who was gathering up her rifle.

 _ **"Shoot her!"**_ Joachim screamed at the Major. **"SHOOT HER NOW!"**

He really didn't have to tell the Major twice. By the time he reissued the order; Major Hautar had her rifle at the ready, dropped to one knee and shredded the child soldier damn near in half. She stood back up and without waiting for back up, bolted towards the position, firing steadily as she reached the girls. Behind the concrete girder, she bolted over the cover and vanished.

The only sounds that Hoch could hear were screams and gunfire. No distinct quarian gunfire, just rifles, submachine guns, pistols and the sounds of young girls screaming.

Finding his rifle, Joachim stood up and hobbled over the concrete rubble and pushed himself over it and onto the embankment. There he stood in dead silence. Her rifle abandoned, Major Hautar had pulled a vicious looking blade out of her armour sheath and was systematically slaughtering the girls without any hesitation.

He watched as she slashed open one girls throat and turned her attention to her companion, who had attempted to hit Hautar with the end of her rifle. Hautar ducked the clumsy attack, smacked the rifle out of the child's hands and pulled the girls arm in the wrong direction, popping it out of her socket. As the girl screamed, Hautar plunged the blade through the back of the girl's skull.

 _"Keelah… How can she do this?"_

Joachim remained silent for a moment as he looked at Hanala through the video link. She appeared in a state of horrified shock that a fellow quarian had so little compassion to be spared for misguided teenaged girls. It was not much of a shock to Joachim. This was just another footnote in the hell of Berlin.

 _"When you're trained the right way and you can do just about anything,"_ Joachim replied to her. _"Besides, I gave the order to deal with the threat."_

A moan caught Joachim's attention. He turned and found that one of the girls was still alive. A dirty faced brunette struggling to get out from underneath the corpse of one of her squad mates. She was in a fit of tears. Her entire world had come crashing down before her eyes.

 _"Squad, get over here,"_ Joachim call on the communication frequency. Noticing Major Hautar moving on the girl, he snapped _"Major back down."_

Footsteps approached Joachim and Hautar. It was the squad standing above the embankment, staring at the bodies and watching Joachim, the Major and the crawling, crying young teenager.

Joachim stepped towards the girl and using his leg, dug it into her side. He rolled the bleary faced uniformed girl. In her hand she clutched a Mauser C96, a relic from the last war. She shakily directed it at him and shot two rounds into his shield. She screamed out in fury and shot three more times, each time the rounds did not connect with the armour. Again and again she shot until she finally realized the weapon wasn't about to work on him.

 _"Give me the weapon, girl. It's all over for you now,"_ Joachim requested carefully, his rifle still directed at the girl. _"This battle is futile to continue now; you're free from the Party. It will cease to exist in a matter of hours. You'll get to go home to your family and forget this ever happened..."_

Tears streaming in her eyes, her chest heavily, she shook her head.

"I am not a traitor to the Führer's memory!" she sobbed out inconsolably. **"HEIL HITLER!"**

It took only a second for the young child to place the barrel of her pistol into her mouth and she squeezed the trigger. Her brains exited the back of her head across the smashed up debris.

No one said a word, no one made a noise. All expect for Heinz Heydrich, who sobbed and turned around to vomit. Closing his eyes for a moment, Joachim gave her a small prayer and turned back to face the squad.

 _"This is what ten years of National Socialist propaganda results to for children,"_ Joachim directed his words to the shocked quarians. _"She knew nothing better. All these children knew nothing better. They are no longer children, they are tools of the party… exploited to give their lives in order to buy Heydrich and the rest of them a few additional hours to survive."_

Joachim trailed off and stepped between the bodies of the dead children until he was at Major Hautar's side. He reached down and yanked the knife out of his hands stepped away. He had nothing to say to her. He could respect her resolve, but he could not help but feel mortified at the exact same time.

Moving slowly until he reached large, unopened crate. Joachim stuck the blade into the crack of the lid and wrenched it open. Out spilled dozens of covered Panzerfaust launchers. All meant to defend against the inevitable conventional assault on their position.

Joachim turned his attention back up to the gathering of commandos and Skorzeny.

 _"These girls had more than enough firepower to kill us all,"_ he informed them. _"Pity them, yes. But do not hesitate again. Children are guided by fantasy, the platitudes of adults and trapped in desperate battles such as this… they have become more dangerous than you or I."_

His piece spoken, he handed the knife back to Hautar and climbed up the embankment. He steeled himself the best he could. There would be plenty more dead boys, girls and old men in the coming minutes. They had to get moving now.

…

…

Gunfire exploded over Sophie Scholl's head as she struggled to reload her MP-34.

As the Waffen-SS unit promised, they had managed to supress the sixty fighters inside the office building long enough for three platoons to break into the building and begun the systematic sweeping. A good portion of the Vampyr unit had been broken already and there was simply no escape.

About a dozen metres or so in front of her, her rocket loader Eckert's position was suddenly overwhelmed without warning. Two Waffen-SS men jumped over the barrier, bayonets on the ends of their rifles. Eckert attempted to pull his pistol out, only to be hit in the head with the stock of the rifle and knocked down. As soon as he was down, they plunged their blades deep into Eckert's body, making the young resistance fighter scream and gurgle as the blades entered and exited and entered his body again.

Sophie tried to stop them, to fight back against the bastards, but every time she got up to shoot, machine gun fire forced her back into a state of helpless horror as she watched the forward position crack and collapse underneath the fearless ferocity of the Waffen-SS.

The Waffen-SS took cover and begun to reorganize. It was long enough for Sophie to pull the string on her Stielhandgranate and tossed it over the side. The assault troops screamed and scrabbled away from the explosive. The grenade went off, catching one of them, which bought her enough time to fall back to where her Brother Hans was fighting from.

As she reached his position, Hans grabbed his sister and pulled her down next to him, carefully hugging her. It was a simple reminder that not everything in this place was hell. It nearly made her burst out into tears.

 _"They killed Eckert…"_ she managed to get out.

Hans tightened up his face as bullets slammed over their heads.

"We'll avenge him, sister," he promised her carefully he let go of her. "We'll avenge _everyone_."

Grabbing his MP-40, he smiled reassuringly at her and leaned up to starting firing on the nearest of the Waffen-SS positions. Finding her courage once again, Sophie did the same. Another Nazi fell to their fire and forced the rest back down into their cover. Yet again they did not bother to get their wounded. They were like animals.

"Hey boy!" one of the soldiers shouted at the two of them. "Send out the girl to negotiate with us and we'll let you leave this alive! I promise you we will be gentle!"

"Or don't, it makes no difference!" another soldier added. "I think we'd much rather have you lying in a pool of your blood, watching the little girl of yours get sodomized with my bayonet!"

The soldiers exploded into laughter as howling like crazed creatures. Furious, Hans stood up to fire again, when one of the Waffen-SS troops shot him through the side. Hans stumbled and collapsed next to Sophie, who screamed at the sight of her Brother wounded. She reached down to clutch his wound as tightly as she could.

"I got him!" the shooter shouted triumphantly from behind his cover. "I get first dibs on that cunt!"

The Waffen-SS troops laughed again in concurrence with the man who shot Hans. Groaning, Hans slid away from her to grab his weapon from off the floor as Sophie tore off her sleeve to stuff into his wound. She would get him up and she would cover him until they were safely back on the roof.

 _"Stupid… stupid of me,"_ he hissed as he gripped his wound. _"G… get up to the roof with the rest of the unit… get out of here. I'll hold them off for as long as I can-"_

 _ ***CLANG!***_

Hans was cut off as a spike shot clean through the window, so fast and so small that the window did not shatter. Then another came through the next window, and another littering the room and making both sides pause their fight stare in shock. Sophie's eyes widened. Tied to the end of the spikes lodged into the wall were cables.

The windows exploded and zooming in on the cables were men… so it seemed. Dressed in dark exotic gear, they disconnected from the lines and glanced around the room at the combatants, all of them apparently unafraid to be exposed in the open. The Waffen-SS men stared back at them. They were speechless for the first time.

Without warning, they raised their weapons and begun firing on the Waffen-SS troops without any hesitation. Keeping low to the ground, Sophie and Hans listened as the troops screamed while they were slaughtered by the newcomers. One of the soldiers stood up from his position, set on fire. He plunged out of the window into the street with a sickening crunch.

As the screams died down, most of the quarians headed to the staircase to finish rescuing the building. Three remained behind. Their rifles turned to face Hans and Sophie. As the alien rifle fire started once again, one of them stepped forward to them.

Tilting it's head to one side, it set it's rifle down and bent down on one of it's strange, doglike legs. It took a look at Hans' wound. Hans tightened up and tried to shuffle away. However the alien reached and stopped him from moving. It turned its black helmet and looked Sophie directly in the eyes.

 _"The pack gathered on the roof,_ " the alien spoke in an extremely rough sounding German. _"We're here to help you. This one is in safe hands now. Wound is bad, It shall alive this if it trusts me."_

It took a moment for her to piece it all together. It seemed as though that the alien was apparently practicing to speak her language. It made some sense she supposed. It was some sort of combat medic.

Sophie looked at her brother, now very pale and frightened; his wound was now flowing freely between the cracks of his fingers. Deciding she had no other choice than to trust the aliens with his life. Sophie nodded silently and leaned in to kiss her brother's head. She stood up and watched for a moment as the alien begun digging through a pack it had brought along.

Unable to believe that this was happening, she ran up the direction to the rest of her team. It seemed that they had found themselves new partners in the fight against Nazism.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The radio operations centered finally calmed down after about two hours of tension. Karin Baum could not help but be relieved by that.

The last thing she wanted to do was to surrender to vengeful civilians mobs in Vampyr. They would look on her like she was one of the Hangmen spread out over Berlin. She would sooner surrender to the Heer, who would be stern but fair… hopefully.

For now it appeared that the hostile partisans in eastern flank were ceasing their attack, at least for the time being. They might have gotten wind of the flanking manoeuvre that was organized by the 14th Infantry Division and knew better than to stay.

As she silently debated whether or not it was time to flee, the door exploded right off the hinge. The sheer concussion of the blast knocked nearly every signals operator off their seats. Karin's head smashed hard against the floor, dazing her. Her ears ringed from the blast.

Violently hacking, Karin groaned as she forced herself up onto her feet. The first thing she could here was the screams and shouts of the operations centre. Her blurred vision could make out figures rushing into the operations centre through the smoke and fire. She could see the strange hands and feet as well as the crooked jointed legs. She looked

They were the quarians. The creatures they had been warned about.

Gone was their image of peace and friendship extended to the world, they were heavily armoured and armed. All of them held their weapons held up at the many operator women, Heer men and SS officers, all of whom held their hands up and were backing up the far side of the room away from the alien menace staring down their rifle.

"Leave the women alone," the Generaloberst requested from the aliens. "I am the one you will need. Give me half an hour and I can end hostilities in this sector."

The aliens did not reply, they did not relax or so much as debate the remark amongst themselves. Only one in the middle of the squad tilted his head to one side.

Instead of agreeing to the terms offered by the Generaloberst, the aliens fired into the dozens of armed and unarmed men and women.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"This is Sergeant Idez. Operational centre has been neutralized and staff destroyed. No resistance. We are moving on to rally point."_

Keeping his rifle as he stepped over a dead German, smouldering from the incineration rounds used on him, Talar'Marni swept the area and continued down the hallway. He did his best to ignore the screams and rifle fire echoing through the building.

The door on his right opened and out flew several human military men. They caught sight of him, shouted to his compatriot and the two of them ran away. Talar took aim and shot the two men before they could flee around the corner. Their blood painted the walls as they both hit the wall and collapsed hard to the ground.

Talar could not help but feel disgusted that he did that, shooting them in the back like a coward. But he had to suppress that feeling. He was a professional who signed up for this group on his own free will. Who knew if those two men would do how much damage in the future? It was better to make sure they were stopped before it got to that paint. The more National Socialists who were killed, the better the world would be.

At least until some other psychotic organization rose up to take its place…

 _"This is the Major…"_ his communication frequency lit up, making Talar pause and lower his weapon to his side.

A scream emitted from the other end of the frequency. It was not the Major. It did not last long as the clattering of rifle fire silenced the source.

 _"Apologies for the delay, this is the Major,"_ Hautar spoke again. _"Basement is now secure; joining the push in three minutes. Corporal Marni, I want a second sweep for survivors while we push to the third floor. Understood?"_

" _Understood_ ," Talar replied right away.

 _"Sorry for the mess we left you, kid,"_ Alon chuckled into his com. _"But that's sort of the newcomer's ritual, you know?"_

Closing his frequency, Talar tried his best not to think about the slaughter too much. Shaking his head, he once again forced himself to clear his head. This time he did it by inspecting every room he came across. It certainly helped to minimize his thoughts about the matter, but it did not erase it.

Closing the door behind him and marking as checked, Talar paused as he noticed the room with the doors blown clean off. It must have been the operations centre. He glanced around the corner and found that no one was around. As soon as stepped into the room and found himself frozen in place.

Laying there was literally a hill of bodies of men and women.

It was a horrifying sight, Talar admitted to himself. It was as though they had been backed tightly against the wall and simply executed by the usually affable Sargent Alon'Idez. There was no attempt at resistance on their part. They were all simply killed on the spot. It took all of Talar's will to move into the room. He still had a job to do, and he was still under evaluation.

Quietly, Talar began the arduous work of poking the bodies with his rifle to see if they were still alive. As soon as he finished inspecting the top layer for life, he began pushing and rolling the corpses out of his way. Ancestors, he needed a strong drink… or a psychologist to process all of this….

A cough caught his attention away from checking the SS man he was focused on. He turned and found a beaten looking woman in the uniform. The woman was wounded, but not by gunfire. Instead it appeared that a femur from one of the dead had exploded out of the body and stabbed her through the back of her leg.

The Corporal climbed off the pile and rolled the wounded woman on her back. His heart was pounding as he realized what was about to happen. The pain and fear in the eyes of the blue eyed human woman only compounded the guilt flowing through him now.

 _"Please don't kill me. Please… please don't kill me. I-I have a family. I-I signed up to help them!"_ the young woman begged him, her voice high and panicky. _"Please you don't have to do this! I didn't do anything wrong… I-I relayed messages… that's all that I did! Oh God don't kill me..."_

His conscience told him not to do it. That here laid a woman in need of his help, not his punishment. This was wrong… this was so unbelievably wrong.

But Talar was no longer guided by his conscience anymore. His morality and conscience no longer was a factor in his choices. He now had a higher purpose; a brutal, but higher purpose stood up amidst the pleading of the young woman.

Talar raised his rifle and shot her through the chest.

He watched as she gasped and her face tightened up as the life vanished slowly from her. Blood was already pouring out of her mouth as she shakily raised her hand at him, gurgling as she drowned. He raised his rifle a little higher and then shot her again through her forehead, ending her existence.

Stepping back from the pile, Talar placed his rifle back on the magnetic strip and pulled off his helmet. His helmet was too stuffy… he needed to stop for a moment and to catch his breath…

 _"You did the right thing."_

Talar spun right around and found Major Hautar standing in the doorway. Like him, her helmet was off as well. She did not seem particularly thrilled. She did however seem to be satisfied of his actions. She shifted her eyes from Talar to the pile of corpses behind him.

 _"It doesn't feel like I did the right thing,"_ he decided to admit out loud.

Turning back, Hautar looked at the Corporal carefully. Again she did not seem upset that he was contradicting her. For a moment her lips twitched.

 _"It never does, and it never will… but it is the right thing,"_ Hautar returned softly. _"Welcome to Panthar'a, soldier… it's an honour to have you."_

Casting a look back at the woman he just shot and killed in cold blood, Talar nodded when without an explosion landed nearby. It had enough force to shake the RSHA building as though it had been a tectonic plate shift. Both Talar and Hautar hit the deck as the dozens of corpses flew through the air, landing on them and around them.

Hautar rolled on her back and pushed the corpse of an army officer off her. Quickly she pulled herself up, pulled on her helmet and bent over Talar to help him up next.

"Come on, soldier," she encouraged him, dragging him up off the ground. "We have a mission to complete before that happens again."

Talar nodded as he grabbed his helmet and pulled it on as well. Survival was now more important than his guilt.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Coughing, Joachim rolled on his back for the second time that day from the concussion of an explosive knocking him off his feet.

"What in the hell was that…" he groaned out, turning his head to one side. Next to him was an audible 'Jesus Christ' that was emitted by Otto Skorzeny.

 _"Those goddamn fools,"_ Skorzeny was the first one to reply. _"It appears your friends have deployed a Karl-Gerät or two against Berlin."_

Joachim groaned and pulled himself up to his feet. The Karl-Gerät was a 600mm self-propelled mortar designed to battle reinforced concrete bunkers, such as the ones in Sevastopol and on the Maginot line. They needed bloody cranes to load the goddamn gun platform.

On the other hand, at least Joachim knew that the Heer was strangling Berlin now. They could not have been more than eight to ten kilometres outside of the city. And on the Brightside, the massive explosion directed inside the perimeter of the RSHA headquarters would persuade the defenders from sticking around for long if they were zeroed in by that much fire power.

Helping Heinz Heydrich stand up, he turned back to Major Hautar, who was climbing up the stairs, one of her subordinates was trailing by him, clutching the wall.

"Stay here and set up a perimeter in case Heydrich has called in reinforcements," he ordered the Major.

Mala'Hautar stared at him for a moment and nodded. She turned away as the quarian team settled into a defensive position. Joachim turned back and with a slight limp, moved down the eerily hallway, Skorzeny and Heinz Heydrich at his side. Their rifles were raised as they moved slowly, cautiously down the hallway.

There was no resistance, but the bodies they had to step over. Almost all of them were clutching or lying next to pistols. Those without pistol had little broken glass vials… suicide pills. The last defiant act to the wind of change, Joachim reckoned. Better to go out on your terms rather than others. It wasn't like they would have much of a choice.

As they turned the corner, the shockwave of a second Karl-Gerät mortar round rocked the building, this time only shaking the three men who were ready for it this time. They took a moment to steady themselves. It took ten minutes for the second round to be fired. So at least they had a timeframe now.

"We're here," called out Heinz Heydrich.

Skorzeny and Hoch turned back and found that Heinz had stopped moving. His hand was touching a door. Sure enough the younger brother of the security Chief was right. Joachim's stomach lurched as he came to a stop in front of the door read 'Offices of the Security Chief of the SS-Reichssicherheitshauptamt'.

He exhaled and turned to the others. Heinz was understandably nervous. He had been here many times before, but this time was completely different. Skorzeny on the other hand remained cool and collected. It was he who slung his rifle on his magnetic strip, reached for his pistol and after a moment, he slowly opened the door, his pistol raised just in case.

Skorzeny made no sound. He turned back and beckoned Heinz and Joachim to enter as well. They did and found that the wall of Heydrich's offices had been virtually torn apart by the Karl-Gerät round that exploded nearby.

Lying there, pinned underneath his over turned desk was none other than Reinhard Heydrich.

Heydrich was in terrible shape. His face was terribly cut up, and it mixed horrifyingly with how gaunt he was. It appeared as though Zorah's belief that Heydrich would be killed by implantation rejections were not unfounded. He was a shadow of his former handsome self.

Joachim stepped forward and lifted the heavy oak desk off of Heydrich and pushed it to one side. Carefully he knelt down and touched where his carotid artery was. It was pulsing slowly, but it was pulsing nonetheless.

"He's still breathing," Joachim murmured as he stood up and turned to the others.

The two other men remained silent. One was staring at his former boss with nothing but flaring hatred in eyes for a man he had been serving faithfully. The other was the Brother, the brother who despite the lure of National Socialism, managed to hang onto his conscious. He was in a special sort of hell. One that called for him to murder his sibling before the shame attached to his name could finally begin to be rectified.

Joachim stepped back to Skorzeny and Heinz, remaining silent as he thought about all the people in his own life that were killed at the orders of Heydrich. The women raped, the children brutalized and then men forced to play a screw game which Gerald Langer and Fuhrmann would not have been awarded for had they succeeded in killing Joachim.

The screen inside his helmet flickered to life. Hanala was sitting there; her bottom lip was open and quivering. She was staring at the architect of Rael and Veyare's deaths. Her eyes were misty as she held them on Heydrich. Her hand reached up to cover her mouth as though she was about to break down. Heydrich was finally at their mercy.

 _"Kill him, Joachim,"_ she breathed finally, ignoring her earlier queries as to why it had to be Joachim who needed to be the assassin. _"Please, Joachim… please just kill him... He…He needs to die."_

Skorzeny tore off his helmet and dropped it to one side. Like Hanala, he too was devastated as he glared at his wife's murderer. He reached into his shoulder sheath and pulled out a Waffen-SS issued knife. It was stained in dry blood. It did not take a genius to know that it was the same knife used to murder the mother of his child with.

Exhaling, the blade gripped hard in his hand, Otto turned his attention to Joachim, his mouth was gritted.

"You have a far larger amount of loved ones killed by him, Hoch," Skorzeny pointed out. "Go ahead and do it."

Choosing against replying, Joachim looked briefly into Hanala's eyes. For the first time in her life, she was in total agreement with the man who savagely beaten her only days prior. She remained perfectly silent. Almost expectant that Joachim would take Skorzeny up on his tempting offer.

Quietly, Joachim disconnected the helmet and feed to Hanala and pulled the armour off his head. He slung it down and rested it on his side. She did not need to see what was about to happen. It was one thing to see war. It was quite another to see an execution.

"I'm done with this, Skorzeny…" he finally addressed his rival. "This is as far as I go."

Heinz and Otto turned away from Reinhard. Both men appeared shocked that the well noted National Socialist killer who had such a large grievance against Heydrich for all the unspeakable crimes that were committed against him had decided he was not going to do this.

"I'm not saying that he should live, either," Joachim elaborated as he knelt down and sat next to Reinhard's sprawled out body. "I'm saying I won't be the one who pulls the trigger. I have murdered a lot of men over the past few months… I can't do it anymore…. not even him."

Skorzeny narrowed his eyes at the hesitation Hoch displayed.

"You killed how many poor misguided bastards since we hit Berlin?" Skorzeny hissed at Joachim, his tone nearly crazed. "You ordered the deaths of dozens of little teenaged – albeit fanatical - girls, and now you hesitate? Have you lost your mind? What about your vengeance? This man manipulated your mentor into killing that quarian woman and had the rest of the family raped and murdered. He made you kill Gerald!"

"I helped you kill the others because they were a threat, Heydrich is not anymore," Joachim replied right away. "I'm done with letting what happened to the Langer's rule my decision making. I'm not going to descend to his level anymore. I have priorities now, and I can't be the same man I was at the beginning of this year. I can't do it…"

Shocked by the lack of will for vengeance on Joachim's part, Skorzeny snorted.

" _Pathetic_ , absolutely _pathetic_ ," Skorzeny growled in disgust. He turned away from Hoch and focused on the youngest Heydrich "What about you, Heinz?" he demanded. "He brought shame on your family."

Heinz stepped forward. His mouth frowning as he looked on his brother. He squatted down onto his knees and grazed his sibling's cheek, turning Reinhard's head back and forth. His frown vanished and Heinz looked mournful. Whatever evil he had committed, Reinhard was still his brother and nothing could change that.

"When I found out what he was doing, he threatened to kill my family," Heinz spoke finally as he let go of Reinhard's cheek. "He helped architect an extermination program. He didn't even do it out of real hatred, really… I think he did it to further his own career…"

Skorzeny crossed his arms.

"There you go; that's all the motivation you need to do this," the Austrian spoke to Heinz. "Sometimes pruning the family tree is necessary to make the line healthy again. Put him out of his misery, out of the entire Heydrich family's misery. Do it and you'll restore your honour."

Like Joachim before him, Heinz did not reply to the logical argument presented by Skorzeny. Redeeming family honour was an important aspect to any proper German's namesake. His brother would be vilified in a matter of days. He would be propped up as a monster before the entire world to behold. It was a title he earned, of course, but it would be damaging to the credibility to the younger sibling and the rest of his decent family.

Yet, Heinz did not reach for his pistol. Instead he stood up and turned around to face Skorzeny. His expression was serene.

"I already did, Skorzeny… by standing up against him," Heinz replied to Skorzeny. Ignoring the renewed abhorrence in Skorzeny, he turned to Hoch.

"Joachim, I'm not a murderer," He said to the younger man. "I'm not a soldier or a resistance fighter. I'm a journalist. That's what I want to be. I… I don't want to be like _you_."

It was not a slight or an insult to Joachim. At least it did not sound like one. It was a rare moment of consciousness expressed in a setting such as this. Heinz Heydrich knew what was right and what was wrong. He still lived by that principal. It was both naïve and admirable.

"You don't have to be like me," Joachim reassured Heinz, somehow finding a smile for him. "You'll never be me. You're a good man. I shouldn't have brought you in on this."

Visibly relaxing at Joachim's assurance, Heinz stepped away from his brother. He seemed as though a burden was off him. That he had confirmation that his family name would be in far better standing without having to kill Reinhard himself. Despite his hatred for Reinhard, Joachim could not bear to have Heinz commit fratricide…

"Oh how very _touching_ ," Skorzeny grumbled at the two men. "I suppose it's up to me then."

Shoving Heinz out of his way, Otto dropped down and pulled Heydrich's limp body up by the front of his shirt with one hand. His other hand clutched onto the knife that had killed his wife.

Staring at his wife's murderer for a good long moment, he took the blade and instead of slashing Reinhard's throat, he cut his jacket off his body. Without any words he went to work hacking the jacket into four long strips. Heinz and Joachim watched in disbelief as Skorzeny begun tying up Heydrich's legs, then his arms.

Just what in the hell was he playing at?

"Hesitating?" Joachim decided to probe, his tone taunting as Skorzeny's had been only moments ago.

"Shut your filthy mouth, _traitor_ ," Skorzeny growled as he finished gagging Heydrich. "I'm not going to kill him while he is unconscious. I have plans with him. His death isn't going to be a clean one, and by not killing him yourself, that's going to be on both of your hands."

"Take a good a look at us, Skorzeny. Does either of us look like we care?" Heinz snarled right back, joining the argument. "My Brother deserves whatever happens to him. It just won't be us who do it."

Footsteps behind them broke off the argument and instead caught all of their attention. Standing in the doorway was Major Mala'Hautar. Her helmet was off and her terribly damaged face was glaring at the three humans and the tied up Reinhard Heydrich. Her eyes were… peculiar one eye was bright and luminescent just as every quarian's was, and her other was a dulled purple. Had she lost her eye? Was it a birth defect?

As Skorzeny turned away to blindfold Heydrich, Hautar stepped forward. Her eyes were narrowed as her rifle went from relaxed to against her shoulder.

"Admiral Zorah's orders state that he doesn't leave here alive," Hautar spoke like a machine. Her matter-of-fact statement was directed to Joachim.

Joachim looked at Skorzeny, who clearly could not care less about what the Major was saying. So he took a step forward to stand in front of both Skorzeny and Heydrich.

"He's a dead man, Major Hautar," he spoke to the quarian Major diplomatically. "Skorzeny won't let him survive for very long."

Hautar did not move and was not moved by the statement. She held her rifle in place on Skorzeny and Heydrich.

"Admiral Zorah's orders state that he doesn't leave here alive," she again repeated.

With Heydrich now tied up, Skorzeny collected his rifle, stood up and turned around to face the expressionless quarian.

"I have plans with him, and you will not interfere with them, you demented looking _cunt_!" Skorzeny directed his rage at her. His teeth were viciously bared as he glared hatefully at the quarian woman.

There was no reaction by Hautar. If she even knew what that word meant Joachim doubted very much that she would have reacted as well. She simply stood there with her rifle aimed at Heydrich.

"Admiral Zorah's orders state that he does not leave here alive."

Skorzeny suddenly lunged, but Hoch was quick enough to intervene. He reached out, knocked the rifle out of Otto's hands and grabbed the Austrian around the waist. It took all of Hoch's efforts to keep Skorzeny pinned down. There wasn't a blink or even so much as recoil of fear from Major Hautar, who remained standing still. She instead continued to look at the overemotional Skorzeny like he was some sort of defective malcontent.

Heinz stepped forward in front of Hoch and Skorzeny.

"This is a vendetta, Hautar… surely you can understand that. This isn't breaking Zorah's directive, this is a… deadline extension," Heinz attempted to explain to the woman. Casting a dark look back to Reinhard, he added. "My brother is a bad man who deserves a bad death. He hasn't earned the right to die in his sleep."

Hautar remained undeterred

"Admiral Zorah's orders state that he does not leave here alive."

Calming down, Skorzeny wrenched himself out of Hoch's arms. He yet again shoved Heinz aside and took his place, staring down at the woman. Hautar stared right back, her rifle still steady at the sprawled out Heydrich.

"I'll only need two hours if you transport Heydrich and I by your shuttle," Skorzeny attempted to bargain with the woman. "You can come to oversee it, and you can kill him if I am one minute overdue… is that acceptable?"

Yet again the quarian commando remained silent as the grave. Holding his eyes on Skorzeny, Mala'Hautar finally blinked. The small response was enough to make Joachim surprised. Slowly, reluctantly, Hautar lowered her rifle and stepped back from her close proximity with Skorzeny.

"Two hours, starting now," she finally agreed. "Take him to the roof. I'll have a transport here in three minutes."

Skorzeny did not argue, he did not protest the threat. He nodded and bent down, lifting the unconscious Heydrich into his arms and left the Security Chief's offices. There was no parting goodbye or barb to Joachim and Heinz. Mala'Hautar and Otto Skorzeny had simply left, leaving the two men standing alone in void they had created.

Reinhard Heydrich was gone. The Loyalists now had no one to fear, and now the National Socialist government had no offensive means left to continue the fight, and whatever they had were just likely the scared Hitlerjugend and BDM. Nowhere near the military support required for more than an hour or two more fighting. For all intents and purposes it was all over.

Joachim turned back to Heinz Heydrich. He appeared… elated. So much weight was now off his shoulders. Vampyr would soon disband, his brother would be dead inside the hour and soon he could return to journalism, his passion in life.

Heinz cracked a grin and nodded. Together they left Reinhard Heydrich's offices. At least for that moment, the future was looking much brighter.

The Civil War was over.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up**

 **One more chapter!**


	23. Integration

**Chapter Twenty Three: Integration**

 **…**

Exhaling his cigarette, Otto Skorzeny opened his palm to check the pocket watch he could not exactly attach to his armour.

Sitting next to him was the alien Mala'Hautar. Her helmet off and she was keeping busy by grinding the dry blood off the end of her combat knife. Her one bright eye, one dulled occasionally glanced at him, or at Heydrich, who had about thirty more minutes before his extension ended and she would kill him herself. Whether her threat to kill him as well was up in the air still, but Otto's sidearm was ready to stop her. He wasn't unconscious like Reinhard Heydrich was. She would have to risk her life if she meant to kill him.

Other than the threats against his life, she wasn't particularly bad… for a quarian at least. She didn't seem to live by high minded ideals like the rest of them. She seemed to have known just how far her people would have to go to survive, and wasn't that she was not afraid to get her hands dirty for their benefit. He could respect that in all honesty. Still, she served to further the interests of the alien bastard Zorah; and he was not about to forget that so easily.

"You're running out of time."

Skorzeny looked up and found the quarian staring at him. Her expression remained neutral, as though she hadn't made the comment in the first place. She was a cold hearted bitch who did not mince her words. Skorzeny found the trait somewhat admirable.

He was spared a response as she winced slightly and turned away. Silently her hand reached up and disconnected the armour of her right armour, allowing it to slide off, leaving Skorzeny shocked that there was no flesh underneath the gear, just most metal and plastics. The sound of metal grinding against metal sent a shiver up his spine.

As she fiddled with the prosthesis, she grumbled to herself, her teeth gritted together. This perhaps was the least professional he had seen her. It became quite clear that she was in a significant about of physical discomfort. For a second, Skorzeny found himself sympathizing with her.

A low, painful sounding groan echoed and caught their attention. Reinhard Heydrich was stirring back to a state of consciousness. Both Hautar and Skorzeny looked up and found that the man had rolled his head from one shoulder to the next. Forgetting her pain in the machine arm, Hautar was the first to stand up. She removed her pistol from her magnetic strip and pointed it at the captured man.

Shaking the thoughts of his wife out of his head, Skorzeny stood up next. He too drew his pistol, but kept it at his side. He walked over to where Heydrich was stirring back to consciousness. He was strapped to the front of a ton and a half Opel Blitz supply truck that Hautar and he hijacked while in route to Wolfsberg, Austria.

Otto remained silent as Heydrich's dazed expression widened in shock as he realized he was being held against his will.

"I see you're awake… very good…" Skorzeny spoke to the man. "Can you understand me?"

Heydrich twisted his head and looked at Skorzeny. His expression flashed to one of shock. It was an understandable reaction to his precarious situation. Not many men woke up with their legs bound to the grill and their arms tied to the sides of an engine hood of an Opal Blitz truck. No matter how much Heydrich struggled, he was not about to break out of snow chains.

Now only a metre or so away from Heydrich, Otto paused and looked into the wide eyes of his wife's murderer. Then, the strangest, most unimaginable thing he could have done happened…

He laughed. God forgive him, but he actually found it in himself to laugh.

It was enough to make the stoic quarian tilt her head in surprise. It did not laugh long. The laughter masked the urge to break down and cry. It took all of his efforts, but Otto managed to do it as he turned to meet Heydrich in the eye.

"You _killed_ my wife, Heydrich. You _hung_ my child and left her to die," Skorzeny addressed the bastard. "Whether or not it was by your hand or on the orders of other makes no difference to me; both of these acts are unspeakable, and you will not live for much longer. However I'm not without mercy. You can still determine the way you want to die…"

Skorzeny leaned forward as he stared at Heydrich.

"There is the easy way, in which I shoot you through the heart," he said as he showed Heydrich his pistol. The barrel of the weapon touching against the battered uniform Reinhard was wearing. "This is only possible if you confess right now and atone for your grievances. Believe it or not, but I'm a good Christian; I can find it in myself to forgive your actions against me if you can account for them. It will be just enough forgiveness to give you a clean, respectable death."

Setting his pistol back into his holster, Otto grabbed Heydrich by his head and wrenched it to stare down in the direction the front was pointed at. Through the tree line at the bottom of the valley was Stalag XVII-A.

"Or you can deny it, and you will die the way that I want… with you strapped to the front of a two ton truck going 80 kilometres an hour down a hill, through those barbed wire and electric fences and through that cheap pine building," Skorzeny continued, pointing out at the lone structure designed for one special prisoner to be housed. "You will be shredded apart in a rather ghastly manner… and if you somehow survive that, I shoot you through the back of your skull with a rifle."

As Skorzeny leaned against the hood of the truck next to the condemned man, he reached into his jacket to find himself another cigarette.

"It's really your prerogative of course – dead is dead - after all," Skorzeny spoke as he lit his cigarette. "At this point, you should think about your family and whether or not they'll have an open or closed casket funeral for their beloved husband and father."

Exhaling a mouthful of smoke, the commando leaned forward. His scared face twisted up as he grinned at Heydrich

"I'd say beloved brother as well, but considering how adamant Heinz Heydrich insisted he helped me get you, I imagine that wouldn't be the truth, right?" Otto mocked, grinning down on the helpless man. "So much for the loyalty of family I suppose."

Skorzeny chuckled again as he pulled back to inhale his cigarette yet again. He watched in mild amusement as Heydrich struggled against the chains. The betrayal of his brother was delicious to say the least. Heinz must have really driven him insane over the course of the civil war. Not bad for a writer he supposed.

The chains fell silent as Heydrich ended his pointless struggle. It appeared as though he was finally coming to terms with his own mortality and that everything was about to end for him. The panic and fury washed off his face as he slowly turned his head to face Skorzeny. He even had enough balls to allow a small smile to cross his mouth.

 _"I don't suppose there is any way out of this?"_ he finally rasped out. There was almost a trace of humour in the son of bitch's voice.

Skorzeny tapped the ash off the end of his cigarettes, and onto Heydrich's boots. He shook his head in mild disgust and pushed himself off of the truck he was leaning against.

"No... No, not this time… you haven't any resources left to protect you," Skorzeny spoke as he turned back to Heydrich. Gesturing to Hautar, he added. "You see the alien? She has one singular goal: To make sure you die. In the off chance I give mercy, she'll kill the two of us… isn't that right Major Hautar?"

The quarian did not reply. She instead glared at the man who ordered the attack that killed hundreds of her people months ago. She wanted his blood spilled nearly as much as Otto had.

"You were willing to step on the faces of your allies in order to advance your own career," Skorzeny reminded Heydrich, his voice struggling to remain level. "Tell the truth and make your last act an honest one. I think you owe that to yourself."

Heydrich did not blink, did not breath, and did not wince. He held his eyes on Skorzeny, still smiling like he had nothing to fear. Skorzeny knew better than that. He knew this was a mask.

 _"Tell the truth?"_ Heydrich repeated, rolling his head to one shoulder. "I got the order from Himmler that your loyalty was _questionable_ at best. That you were infected by that demented lawyer _Kaltenbrunner_. But if you knew anything about me, then you should know that I did not have the time or desire to go out of my way just to kill your wife and child on the order of the Reichsführer. You were not worth an iota of my effort."

Skorzeny's fist tightened. This was not what he wanted to hear…

"You _received_ the orders and carried then you carried them out, my wife was killed in the exact same fashion you had others killed," Otto repeated like a machine. "One more time: confess and I will make this easy for you. I want to hear you say the words. I refused the chemical weapons deployment and you had others murder her, and nearly killed my child before Kaltenbrunner intervened… admit it and you die painlessly."

There was no response from Heydrich. His twisted face, damaged by the cybernetic implantation rejection grinned at him like he had done no wrong. Loosening his hands from the fists that had formed in the wake of Heydrich's defiance, Skorzeny instead wrapped them tight around man's neck. Behind him Hautar stiffened up. It was an expression of anticipation…

 **"SAY IT!"** Skorzeny roared out at the bastard.

Reinhard's eyes bulged as Skorzeny continued to choke him. He swayed back and forth. It was all that he could do to resist. Skorzeny held the pressure. He did not add anymore, but he certainly didn't relax it. He needed Heydrich in pain but conscious. He needed to know who killed him.

"You think I wanted to _stoop_ to a vendetta against someone as _insignificant_ as _Joachim Hoch_? That I planned out the museum operation? That I _killed_ and _raped_ and played mind games all out of spite?" Heydrich gasped out finally. "I was laid up in a hospital. It was _Kaltenbrunner_ who orchestrated the attack weeks before that bastard Hoch abducted the _Führer_. It was always _Kaltenbrunner's_ doing…"

The words did not ease Otto's pressure on Heydrich's throat. The accusations against Kaltenbrunner were simply too unbelievable for Skorzeny to accept on the word of a bastard like Heydrich. Most men in the shadow of their own death would be honest. Not Heydrich. Heydrich lived to sow discourse in his enemies. If he could shake Skorzeny's confidence in Kaltenbrunner, then the fuck would go to his grave with a win.

" _Kaltenbrunner_ … that petty, conniving _snake_ … he convinced me that if I was to be seen as a credible successor to the Führer over Himmler, I had to be the one to take charge and do the deed on his behalf. That I had to lead the reprisals and instil discipline over the country!" Heydrich struggled out as Skorzeny squeezed his throat. "I never intended on being a marked man! I had my own problems without having Hoch and his inquisition regiment or _you_ hunting me down!"

Growling, Otto reached out and pulled Heydrich's head up by his hair. Gripping the barrel of his pistol, he began the process of bringing justice to Heydrich by smashing his face in with the pistol grip. This was slander, pure and simple, and he wasn't about to abide it. What he was suggestion was impossible. It was the teachings that Himmler instilled in his circle about Kaltenbrunner.

"Kaltenbrunner is loyal to _**me**_! He _**loved**_ Emmi and Waltraut! What you're saying are impossible _**LIES**_!" Skorzeny screamed right back at Heydrich, spittle flying in the face of the mangled Reinhard Heydrich.

All Heydrich could do was cough and laugh in the face of the Austrian. His bleeding, twisted face formed a rictus grin, mocking Skorzeny for his apparent foolishness.

 _"If you think love is enough to keep Ernst from taking advantage of an opportunity to keep you at his side, then you are a far greater fool than I suspected!"_ Heydrich managed to cough out. _"Himmler's signed order was all it took to play that hand… all it took for him to kill your wife. So Kaltenbrunner killed the bitch to keep her from influencing you any further, and spared the child… no… saved the child to buy your gratitude and loyalty. You're a dog, serving your master blindly. That's all you've ever been. A tool to advance his own caree-"_

He could not complete his lunatic ravings about Ernst; Heydrich shrieked as Mala'Hautar stepped forward and plunged her knife between the man's ribcage and begun to twist. Otto could hear bone twist and break from the blade. The quarian remained motionless as she stared into Heydrich's panicked eyes. She pulled the blade out, the dark blood hitting her torso.

As Heydrich's blood came bubbling through his orifices, Hautar stepped back and turned back to the human standing next to her. Otto's eyes were wide in stunned shock as he watched the man he hated so much begin to die before his eyes.

"No more insults and mind games… you humans are worse than children," she said as she wiped the blood off her knife on his uniform and sheathed it. "Finish it now."

Looking at the convulsing, dying, former head of the RSHA, Otto nodded and moved around the truck cab. Prying open the door, he climbed into the driver's seat. He waited only a moment longer as Mala'Hautar did the same. As soon as she slammed the door shut, he turned the keys, roaring the engine to life. It was time to execute phase two of his plan.

The rumbling of the truck brought Heydrich's focus back, but it was nothing compared to as Skorzeny stepped onto the accelerator. The truck jerked and begun rolling over the side of the hillside and down towards Stalag XVII-A. Both Hautar and Otto ignored the screams of Heydrich as the truck picked up more and more speed as it closed.

The screaming quickly ended as the truck hit through the first line of chain link fencing, then the barbed wire. Skorzeny tightened his grip around steering wheel. He lowered his head as bullets blasted through the window shield. Then came the shuddering thump as the truck slammed right through the cheap pine walls of the prisoner barrack.

Kicking open the door, he climbed out with his rifle at the ready. He took aim at the MG-34 post on his left and fired a burst through the sandbags. He turned and found Hautar firing an explosive round from the underslung grenade launcher she had had attached to her weapon on the flight over. The grenade exploded the top of the watchtower into a haze of blue death.

"Secure the perimeter," was all Otto had to say to her.

Nodding, Hautar pulled on her helmet, activated her shielding and bolted to the back of the truck to lay down fire on the Luftwaffe troops pouring into the main yard to investigate the firefight. Skorzeny slung his rifle back up to his shoulder and worked his way back inside of the building.

He paused as he reached the cab and looked at the limp Heydrich. Torn to shreds, his body impaled with wood, his body was tangled up in barbed wire. It was not nearly as satisfying a sight as Skorzeny thought it would have been on his way over. It was not that he felt it had been too much… it was just… unsatisfying. Perhaps it was Heydrich's final words that got to him…

For now that did not matter. Shoving aside his disappointment, he pushed past the truck and entered the barrack, where he quickly found the reason why he chose this place in particular for his means to execute Heydrich… the liberation of Colonel _'Mad'_ Jack Churchill.

Skorzeny could not help but roar out in laughter at the sight of his former enemy. The Englishman was laying chained to the lone bed in the barrack and was gagged and stripped stark naked. Apparently the tricky bastard was attempting night escapes from the Stalag, and the commandant was understandably furious and not about to give the commando means to conceal weapons. Currently Churchill was wide eyed and in a state of shock at the sudden explosion that rocked his barrack.

Still grinning despite everything, Skorzeny climbed over the wood debris and nearly marched his way to the Englishman. He raised his rifle and shot the chains latched to the floor off their hinges. As Churchill struggled to loosen the chains wrapped around him, Otto knelt down by the bed side and pulled the gag from out of Churchill's mouth.

"I suppose you didn't heed my advice about behaving," Skorzeny mused as he helped Jack up. He looked exhausted, like the guards put him through rigorous work outs to keep his body exhausted. It was what Skorzeny would have done if he had someone as odd as Churchill in his custody.

" _Skorzeny_ …" he moaned as he rubbed his pockmarked chest caused by the rubbing of the iron chains. "Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?"

As Skorzeny stood up to exit the barrack, Churchill did the same. He was not bashful in the slightest by his nudity as he trailed behind the Austrian with a serious limp.

"The war is over, Jack," Skorzeny announced to the Englishman behind him. "National Socialism in Germany is dead and your side has been more or less subjugated at least on this front. It does not take a genius to know that your liberation will take quite some time to process. I figured you would like to get out now."

The two men stopped in front of what remained of the smoking Opel Blitz truck. Skorzeny turned back to Churchill and found the man was pulling Heydrich's hair up so he could take a good, hard look at the face of the man. Jack's mouth twisted up into an expression of disbelief.

"Is that… Is that _Reinhard Heydrich_ , Otto?" Churchill finally spoke in disbelief. "You just had to one up me didn't you? You even used _my_ trick!"

Skorzeny did not reply to the backhanded praise. He pushed Jack's hand out of the way, raised his rifle at the dead man and shot the corpse through the back of the head. The exit wound absolutely catastrophic, it did enough damage to splatter most of his face clean off his body. It was enough to make Churchill step back in shock as he watched the Austrian desecrate the corpse.

Together the two men stepped out into the yard and towards the source of the gunfire. Waiting for the two of them was Major Hautar. She did not need any assistance in holding off the security detail of the Stalag. As her shielding flared from the projectiles hitting her, Otto turned back to Jack and threw the man his pistol belt before raising his own weapon to assist the Major.

"And just what the hell is that thing?!" he heard Churchill shout over the gunfire. The pistol in his hand was raised as he returned fire in the buff.

"The secret your team had to die for last year," Skorzeny shouted back to him as he pushed Churchill in between Hautar and himself. "I'm taking you to Calais… do you have any objections, or shall I leave you here?"

Receiving no disagreement with Skorzeny's intention to escort him out of mainland Europe, Churchill followed Skorzeny and Hautar out of the Stalag at a mad dash away from the swarms of Luftwaffe troops. They had a shuttle to catch.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

At a grand total of three days, Erich von Manstein found that this had to have been the shortest campaign he ever had to command.

Resistance in the so-called _'Fortress'_ Berlin crumbled quickly the moment the quarians dropped Special Forces teams into the city. With the confirmation that Heydrich was dead, Thousands of officers begun the process of surrendering their troops to the encroaching Army Group Berlin. Now that it was all just a process of sorting out who would be sent to the east and who would be sent to prison, Manstein was packing his bags and heading back to Army Group South. The Soviets had made a renewed push in the Caucasus. He had to respond to it as soon as possible.

In the meantime, while he waited for his train and flight plan to be drawn up, Von Manstein found himself lacking in a little entertainment. So in order to relieve his own boredom, he had his men summon none other than Alfred Jodl and Wilhelm Keitel to his command center. There both men were gagged and tied upside down to loose hanging ropes. Sort of a human piñata he supposed. It was rather nice to see to the two traitors to the Heer in a position of abuse. They were avid followers of Hitler; especially Keitel who destroyed many good, honest men to get his position.

Erich did not speak to them, he did not hit them, he did not so much as look at the two of them. They were no longer regarded to as human beings by him. Neither of them were worthy of his contempt, nor his pity. Instead they would do for him as they did for Adolf Hitler over the course of the war: They would serve as room decoration to take no notice of, and nothing more.

"Herr Generalfeldmarschall, may I have a moment of your time?"

Slamming his suitcase close, Von Manstein turned to the source of the low growling voice. Sure enough it was none other than Oberst Joachim Hoch standing in the room. Dressed in state-of-the-art quarian armour, he was not in a state of attention. His eyes were instead trained on both Keitel and Jodl. Erich hoped the young man was at least amused by it as he had been. A good portion of the blame for fighting his fellow Germans all these months rested on the shoulders of Jodl and Keitel.

"Hoch, come in and have a seat," The Generalfeldmarschall invited the Oberst in. "I have real coffee if you would like some."

The young officer did not reply to the offer. He walked into the room, his eyes held on the two generals held upside down and obviously against their will. It was clear that he was confused by what he had walked into, but he was not about to voice it openly.

"Sort of a joke between old colleagues; it is a political matter that men in the mid ranks are fortunate enough to largely avoid," Manstein explained to Hoch as he took a seat behind his desk and collected his after action reports. "Jodl and Keitel had the power to suppress the loyalists from fighting. They likely added months of resistance to the rebellion. Now look at them, they have destroyed their own names for a dead cause. This is what you get when you place bumpkins into positions of supreme leadership."

Manstein paused as Hoch turned back to him. Okay, perhaps a man in the same position as Hoch had been for the past half a year or so knew the politics behind war all too well. Still, most men in his position had the enviable task of not having to clash with personalities of your supposed kameraden rather than the enemy. Whenever Keitel was within 50 kilometres of him, Manstein wanted nothing more than to be sent to the front line in an under armed, highly suicidal Strafbattlion then deal with him.

"I was under the impression that loyalty was a Prussian virtue," Hoch spoke finally as he turned his back to the two disgraced General officers.

Manstein grimaced at the comment. It was still a surprise just how quickly his opinion on coups changed. That he stood against the government he swore to swear faithfully. If he was conflicted, he could not help but imagine the struggle it had to have been for SS men like Hoch to shift their perceptions on the man they swore to serve unto death.

Still, here Hoch stood. He survived the struggle to shake off the shackles of his masters. He battled and killed his compatriots' and more than proved his loyalty to the new Reich; but still the mental… hesitations would remain for quite some time. Hopefully he would survive the coming years.

"Yes, loyalty is certainly one of the Prussian virtues of old," Manstein addressed Hoch as he joined him. However there are occasions when the virtue can be bent, and a potentially hostile alien force with a thirty five thousand ship armada and a hatred for Hitler counts as one of those occasions."

Hoch did not reply to the humoured remark. His grimy face was extraordinarily grim as he stared ahead at Manstein without blinking.

"I received confirmation from Admiral Zorah that both Reinhard Heydrich and Ferdinand Schörner are dead and that Oskar Dirlewanger has been taken into custody," Manstein changed the subject for the Oberst, his hands lacing together on the top of the table. "Fine work, you should be commended for your deeds. You spared the city a long, brutal siege. The people will be grateful of your acti-"

"They used child soldiers as a line of defense against my team… girls were not spared from the draft," Hoch suddenly snapped out, the praise clearly bothering him. "So many misguided people died defending a maniac, so many civilians died trying to resist. There is nothing to be commended by you; we did the assignment as ordered. That is not why I am here."

Pushing his seat back, Hoch stood up in place. His arms and legs snapped together as he stood at attention before the Generalfeldmarschall, who was staring up at the young, wide eyed Oberst curiously.

"I do not mean to be curt with you, Herr Generalfeldmarschall," Hoch spoke again, this time more steadily. "It's just that not so long ago you said that we were friends, and that friends do things for each other. You wanted Hitler trialed, so I followed your route. I need a favour from you now..."

Erich looked at Joachim Hoch in the eye. The young man stiffened back up into a state of attention. It did not take a tactical genius to see Joachim's intentions a thousand kilometres away. Still… that did not mean that Erich was about to ignore whatever he had to say. Hoch had followed his instructions to the letter and lost quite a bit for it as a result.

Hoch reached into his armour and produced a rather crumpled up envelope. He leaned forward to set it on the table in front of Erich and returned back into a state of attention.

"I want you to sign off on a deactivation order on medical and/or psychological grounds," Hoch requested carefully, his words slow as though prodding to make sure what he wanted was a discussable subject. "I want to be assigned to the officer pool for no less than one year; I want the back pay I am owed since January."

Manstein stared at the young soldier incredulously. The Oberst wanted out of the war that badly? Surely the man knew that he was on the cusp of true greatness. Another three years of service and tutelage under the severely underappreciated Hass von Manteuffel, or perhaps Walter Model and Manstein could see Hoch reaching Generalmajor. It would be an honour that he truly deserved. It just seemed like such a shame that he was settling for a pittance…

Beating back an exacerbated sigh, Manstein leaned further back into his seat.

"I can get you reimbursed for lost wages and compensated for properties and finances stolen in the wake of your mission to abduct Hitler, but we're still in a war, Hoch," Erich finally responded, deciding to reason with the reluctant soldier. "I shall need solid men in the field, men such as you in the coming months... I cannot lose you now."

There was no change in the demeanour of the Oberst. He did seem a little surprised that Manstein permitted himself to actually beg, but it was just not enough to change his mind. After a good moment, he bowed his head.

"I recognize that there is a long war ahead, which is why I only ask for a year off rather than issue my complete resignation and intention to move to the quarian Mandate," Hoch said stiffly in an attempt not to buckle under the implied authority that the Generalfeldmarschall had over him. "I will not be of any use to you in the short term until I am granted enough leave until I have recuperated both physically and mentally. I don't have it in me to lead men into combat… and allow me make it quite clear, I hate Jewish-Bolshe-"

Hoch slammed his mouth shut. His Party lingo was still an ever present ghost in him. His expression turned one into self-loathing as he broke his rigid stance and slumped down into his seat. Erich watched the still very much indoctrinated Ex-Waffen-SS man rub his face. His expression collapsed into a look of misery.

" _Bolshevism_ ," he finally amended in a weak voice. "But… I cannot work against it in this current state. The war in the east cannot be won through ideological hatred. The only way to beat the Russian communist is to show the common citizen that we are the better, more moral, men… no matter how impossible that may seem."

Manstein slammed his fist on the desk.

"You know I should have you tried for cowardice?" Manstein growled at the Oberst finally. "While we speak millions of men are on the Russian frontier fighting and dying. Millions of more men are being redeployed to the east without no choice, and you have the gall to sit there and demand time off?!"

The statement stunned the Oberst. Clearly he hadn't exactly put a lot of what shirking his duties meant…

Standing up, Manstein paused in front of Keitel and Jodl. Glaring at the two yes-men Von Manstein pushed Generalfeldmarschall Keitel and watched as both he and Jodl begun to rotate on the ropes they were dangling from. The two men cried out though their gags for what likely was a demand to cease the motion. Manstein ignored it and took a seat on the edge of the desk next to Hoch, who was sitting at a state of attention.

"You know, you're lucky that the courts will be packed tight with Nazi criminals, or I would have you trialed as soon as I can," The Generalfeldmarschall pressed on sternly. "As such, it will be up to me to dispense your punishment in a prompt and summary matter."

Reaching behind him, he grabbed a pen and the temporary medical discharge paper Hoch had given him. As he begun the process of signing all the blank marks, he paid no attention to Hoch's eyes widening as he realized that Manstein was working the angles. Things had to be said to get the actions done.

"You may consider yourself suspended from active service with pay, back pay and benefits for no more or less than one year," Manstein spoke again as he dropped the pen, folded the official order and handed it to Hoch. "We will discuss your case on a future date. Am I understood?"

He tried not to grin as he looked into Joachim Hoch's stupefied expression as he read the signatures that would mark his freedom for a full year. This was a long time coming for the man. It still bothered Manstein that he wanted out of the war so eagerly, but the boy was not wrong. Mental health had to factor in to a good command leadership; and the only one who truly knew what was going on in Hoch's head was himself and the doctor he would need to help him cope.

Giving him another moment to himself, Manstein cleared his throat.

"What in the hell are you still sitting in my chair for?" he snapped for good measure.

Barely able to contain his own glee, Joachim Hoch stumbled out of his seat and retreated quickly from Manstein's command centre, leaving the Generalfeldmarschall alone with his two prisoners. Grabbing his cup of coffee, he turned back to face the two yes-men and sipped his drink in silence.

"As for you two, I'm going to see you're both hung for your actions," Erich curtly informed the two men. "Only next time you both will be wishing it was for my amusement."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The protests were very nearly deafening. It took a volley of rifle fire to shut up the four hundred ministers, representatives, district leaders, lawyers, bureaucrats and general staff personnel who were gathered in front of the Reichstag, which was surrounded by the whole of the 6th Infantry and 19th Panzer Divisions.

Naturally it had been the politicians and the civilians who were protesting what was occurring the most. They were the most vocal of the sixty thousand prisoners being sorted out. Most of the captured in this district were the loyalists Heer units that were being sorted through, pulled from the ranks of the captured and prepared for reenlistment into the Rebels… well, the now official Wehrmacht. It would not belong until they found themselves paying for their loyalty through front line service in Russia again. In a war such as this, culpability of criminality had to be vague

On the other hand, Allgemeine-SS and Waffen-SS men were being led off to the camps for detainment. Most would likely never see service again. Not as the Berlin Army Group entered the city and found the tens of thousands of Berliners who either resisted or were in the wrong place at the wrong time, rounded up and executed. Von Manstein made it very clear that if the Fatherland was ever in danger and they needed all the manpower they could get, the men of the 36 Waffen-SS Division's only use would be as target designators for the artillery.

Another rifle volley fired into the air, making Leutnant Erich Christmann flinch slightly. He wasn't exactly a front line soldier himself. He was a part of Generalfeldmarschall Von Rundstedt's clerical staff. A former prosecutor in Weimer Republic, He was assigned to the 51st Feldgendarmerie detachment, which was assigned to 6th Infantry Division. Naturally the Feldgendarmerie was called on three reasons: First to keep the peace between the bitter victors and losers, second, to re-establish a police presence in Berlin and third, begin the process of disarming Vampyr resistance group.

 _ **"CEASE YOUR CHATTERING THIS INSTANT!"**_

The voice belonged to Oberst Lobeck, commandant of the detachment. Like Christmann, he too was a lawyer in the days before. He had made it all the way to judge by 1933 until he was kicked out for having questionable Party loyalties. Now he was standing before the men who more or less destroyed his political ambitions, his grim old face looked almost satisfied as he stared down on the silencing gathering from behind his bullhorn.

 _ **"You have been detained for a variety of reasons; there are far too many charges for me to list out at the moment. So for reason of expediency and for your safety, you will all be transported to Stalag-III-A, 53 kilometres south of Berlin until further notice,"**_ the Oberst spoke over the horn. _**"You will not be in contact with the outside world until we begin the process of sorting out your crimes against the State. I have been informed by Herr Generalfeldmarschall's Gerd von Rundstedt and Erich von Manstein that once the charges are filed, you will be granted the right to representation… More than most of you would give to us if the positions had been reversed… or to any of the tens of thousands of Berliners you likely would have executed without as much as a trial..."**_

Taking a deep breath, he pressed on.

 **"Behave for the duration of your imprisonment and you will be treated fairly and humanely. Resistance and subversion to our control shall be met with extreme persecution!"**

The Oberst gestured to a dozen former colleagues of theirs. Most notable of them all was Baldur von Schirach, the former head of the Hitlerjugend and now former Gauleiter of Vienna. Considering his active deployment of German children into battle to fill the void left by the rebelling Wehrmacht and the near death worship of the children he nurtured into ideological soldiers, his hanging was bound to happen sooner or later. It would not at all come to Christmann that the order had been predetermined by the Wehrmacht Council. So much for their assurances of a fair trial; no matter how vile his actions were, the man should have been afforded a chance to defend himself from the accusations. Instead he screamed as a pig as the Feldgendarmerie strung him up to the lamp post as thousands of Berliners had been before him.

" _Look who's is here,"_ he heard one of his men call out. " _It's the new masters. Should we bow, or grovel at their feet?"_

Looking away from the swinging corpse of the Youth Leader, the Leutnant looked up and found that there was indeed a gathering of suited quarians. They were following one quarian in what appeared to be their version of a uniform. He appeared to be addressing the quarians, his hand was pointing to the gathering of criminals politicians.

As they made their way over, Christmann found himself confused. He had been under the impression that the quarians would perhaps be monstrous beasts, not so. They almost… almost looked human. They certainly did not come across as world conquerors. There was almost something…Technocratic about them. They were the National Socialists, which the actual National Socialists dreamed to be. They did not act as a blunt instrument. Instead of using force and risking their people's lives, they risked other lives instead… German lives.

If Christmann hadn't been a German himself, he would have found it admirable. Instead he was disturbed by the implications. Would this be forever the fate of Germany, and eventually the whole of Mankind: Salvation from itself in return for slavery at the hands of the quarians?

The leader of quarians stopped in front of Oberst Lobeck and addressed him in its alien tongue. Lobeck nodded, apparently able to understand what the being was saying. He turned to Christmann as quarians returned back to their public, but untranslatable conversation without any concern of the humans nearby.

"Major, I want your men to gather the last batch," Lobeck commanded in a short bark, his temper at a breaking point apparently. "The Reichstag is now under temporary control of the Quarian Admiralty Board, Enclave and the Wehrmacht Council until further notice. They would prefer the filth removed before they set up."

Breaking his stare away from the aliens, Christmann ignored the urge to point out how wrong it was for these beings to assume control of the Reichstag and instead clicked his heels together for the Oberst and turned away. With a wave of his hand, he directed his platoon of military police back up the stairs. He trudged behind them, muttering under his breath as he entered the blown open front doors.

The building was in ruins like the rest of the country. It had never been fully repaired in the wake of the Reichstag fire, but the fire was nothing compared to the initial storming of the building by Vampyr. It was a brutal firefight that left many on both sides dead until the leading units of the Rebellion pushed by the resistance, instantly forcing the defenders to surrender. That must have probably been a purposeful action. The guard knew better than to surrender to maundering bandits.

As another group of prisoners was led down the hallways of the Reichstag, Christmann paused at the doors of one office, left closed and undisturbed by the ruckus caused by the panic. Erich turned back and waved two soldiers over, both of them patrolling the hallways. As they joined his side, the Leutnant turned back to the door and knocked hard.

 _"Come in."_

The voice was casual, almost inviting. Christmann frowned, unbuckled his pistol holster and turned the doorknob. Silently he entered the room and sure enough found the man he was looking for: Minister of Armaments Albert Speer. He was hutched over his desk, deep in paperwork, clearly unaware or uncaring to the events occurring just outside his door.

Christmann and his men stepped forward and came to a full stop in front of the desk.

"Visitors," Speer spoke almost cheerfully as he set down his pen and looked up. "May I be of assistance in some way? Would you like a drink, perhaps?"

His mouth forming a quizzical expression by the sheer casualness of Speer's nature, Christmann shook his head.

"No… no thank you, Minister Speer," he refused the offer as he opened his briefcase. "I am Leutnant Erich Christmann of the have come with a declaration seven of the Wehrmacht Council. All members of the National Socialist Party are to be detained until further notice."

Removing a copy of the summons he was to present to the Minister, Christmann placed it on the Minister's desk and snapped to a state of attention out of respect. The men at each of his sides did the same as well. Erich stared ahead, trying not to pay attention as Speer reached over the table and slid the document in his direction for a closer look. For the first time, Speer's good nature vanished.

Minister Speer finally looked up to Christmann finally.

"I understand Leutnant, and I appreciate the amount of work you have ahead of you," the Minister addressed gravely. "However, before you detain me, could you pick up that phone?"

Minister Speer gestured to the phone on the desk. It was not hung up, but instead just sitting on the desk as though waiting just for him. Christmann narrowed his eyes at the Minister. After a good moment and careful debate on whether or not to trust a noted National Socialist like Speer, he stepped forward closer still and kicked up the receiver, pressing it to his ear.

"Yes?" he spoke through the line.

There was only a moment of silence on the other end.

 _"Leutnant Christmann,"_ a grave old voice spoke on the other end of the line. _"This is Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt."_

Christmann's eye's bulged out as the gravelly tone of the Prussian Generalfeldmarschall and virtually the head of the Wehrmacht Council was taking time out to personally address the glorified police officer such as him. The old man sounded distracted and reaching his own exhaustion point. Understandable considering that despite pushing 70, he was more or less running the entire civil war from the beginning.

 _"Minister Albert Speer has been exempted from the detention of the National Socialist government,"_ Von Rundstedt bluntly pressed on, his voice hard and grim. _"As Armaments Minister, I am sure you understand why he is exempted from answering slave labour charge; however our situation demands we show him mercy."_

The words the Generalfeldmarschall bothered Christmann to an unimaginable extent. How could it be possible for a man put in the position to rehabilitate National Socialist Germany to condone the actions of Albert Speer? There was no regret for his actions, no attempt to seek repentance of any sorts. He was acting as though all of this had already been predetermined a long time prior to this…

 _Of course…_

This was not some new deal Speer made. Minister Speer was a part of the early conspiracy. Not that that likely would have mattered. Since Speer took over the Armaments ministry position production levels were on the constant increase through the use of voluntary and forced labour programs. In a Total war such as this, the hardened generals of the Wehrmacht were not about to complain about how they got their equipment, so long as they got it out into the field. They would not prosecute the man… at least not until the war against the Bolsheviks ended in a victory.

Still, he was bothered by the logic behind the move. Looking into Minister Speer's neutral expression certainly did nothing to help that.

"Yes Herr Generalfeldmarschall, I understand…" Christmann reluctantly confirmed. "But for the record, I must protest this… Minister Speer ought to be locked u-"

There was no reply or confirmation that he got the protest. Instead Von Rundstedt slammed the phone on the hook, disconnecting the Leutnant from the Generalfeldmarschall. It took all of Christmann's efforts not to mutter profanities at the now absent Von Rundstedt.

"If it makes you feel any better, we are in agreement," Minister Speer confessed to the Leutnant. "I have had to do things to keep the Reich from collapsing that I am not proud of... In some ways, my continued service is my criminal sentence."

"Yeah?" Christmann snapped back to the Minister. "Tell that to that millions of slaves working for you."

The retort was left unanswered from the Armament's Minister. A knock on the door caught the attention of all four men in the office, keeping a morality debate from breaking out between the former prosecutor and the architect. They turned and found a lanky, older civilian standing in the doorway. He looked worn out, but somewhat ecstatic. Like this was something he had been waiting for quite some time.

"Doctor Kritzinger?" Albert Speer called out to the man in question.

Christmann narrowed his eyes at the newcomer's name. This was Kritzinger?

"I noticed that you were the next in line to be dragged out here," the newcomer spoke to the Minister rather nastily. "I figured I would bid you a fond farewell."

Speer merely smiled, unbothered by the blatant malice in the voice of Kritzinger.

"Not anymore," Speer reassured the older man. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Disturbed that the minister was getting away from any criminal charges, Kritzinger looked away from Speer and stepped towards Leutnant Christmann, who could not help but be bewildered by the presence of the old government official.

Christmann already knew this man. Doctor Friedrich Kritzinger was to be remanded into special custody. According to the confession of the recently captured Dr. Roland Frieser, he had been involved in the 1942 Wannsee Conference. Headed by Reinhard Heydrich, they detailed out the extermination program –more or less enacting the slaughter of millions in one luncheon. Honestly, the Leutnant had expected one of the three reactions typical of National Socialists: resistance, flee, or commit suicide.

Instead of doing what most National Socialists did, Friedrich Kritzinger was doing the opposite. Here he stood before the three military policemen that had been given full reign to deal summary executions, and all he was doing was wearing an expression of resignation and relief. It was as though the arrest would have been a heavy burden lifted off his shoulders.

"I wish to be remanded into your custody on friendly grounds," he spoke quietly to the Heer officers. "I shall gladly answer to any charge I am to be charged with here and now."

Christmann could not help but frown at the forthcoming nature of the Government official. Was it a trick? Did he not understand the gravity of his situation? The man had some serious charges levelled against him –much more serious than most men in his mid-rank position.

"You are being charged with the complicity to planning systematic extermination of the Jewish race across continental Europe and Russia," Christmann explained to the man," Christmann decided to inform Kritzinger. His tone level as he stared at the older man. "You were involved in a conference in Wannsee in the winter of 1941/1942. Considering your forthcoming attitude, I would advise you to find yourself a lawyer before you continue."

Kritzinger shook his head right away.

"I am a lawyer and I wish to wave my right to representation. I have been sitting on the evils of Wannsee for quite long enough. It has left me sick for so long. Now I finally can speak of it openly," Kritzinger waved off without so much as a pause to consider what Christmann had advised. "As the… well, the former Deputy Chief of the Reich Chancellery, it is my duty to assist you in any possible way. As a human being who knows he has done great wrong, it is also my duty to plead guilty to any and all crimes I know which I have been complicit with. Starting with that ghastly, orderly meeting in which we decided to exterminate a race and I as a member did not stand up against until after the fact."

As Christmann nodded, Minister Speer stood up from his desk. He appeared oddly sympathetic to the words being spoken.

"You would not have lasted long, Friedrich," Speer reminded the Deputy Chief neutrally. "You could bet that Himmler and Heydrich would have seen to that."

Kritzinger rounded back to Speer. It was clear that he did not share the same sort of value in self-preservation as the Minister had.

"It should not have mattered whether I survived or not!" Friedrich suddenly exploded, breaking his monotonous tone for the first time. "I should have stood up, I should have said something. Many people in Germany should have done the same. How foolish could we have been?"

He paused as he turned to Christmann.

"Leutnant, lead me away in irons, but first permit me to give your men every file I have on the matter first!" he asked the man.

As the former deputy chief of the Reich Chancellery fell silent, he extended his hands out to Christmann, as though he was waiting to be officially detained by the soldiers. Christmann frowned at the lawyer and shook his head. He could not help but feel a respect towards this man. For the first time that day it appeared that at least one man in the Reichstag was still somewhat guided by a conscious. He might not have listened to it at the time of the meeting, but it still existed. It still nagged at him to do the right thing…

Christmann supposed that was better than nothing.

"There will be no shackles on you, Herr Doctor," he reassured Kritzinger with as much respect as he could summon for the one honest Party member. "There is a special holding place for repentant and forthcoming National Socialist detainees located in Königsberg for direct contact with the council. I shall see to it as soon as soon as you take my men to collect your files."

Kritzinger appeared dazed by the response. Surely he had been expecting to be meeting his end today like Baldur von Schirach, or begin the next phase of his life locked up in a camp where he would await trial. Instead he would be sent east to a posh hotel where he would be lightly interrogated and treated well until he stood before the judge.

Bowing his head in soft respect, Kritzinger turned and left. The two soldiers followed closely behind him, leaving Speer and Christmann behind. Both men silent as the Leutnant closed his briefcase and fastened his pistol holster once again.

"Tell me, Leutnant," Speer spoke as he sat back down behind his desk. "Just how many repentant and forthcoming National Socialist leaders have you found thus far?"

Christmann looked up to the Minister. He could not help but chuckle at the bad joke that Speer accidentally told.

"Just this one," he returned as he turned to leave the offices of the exempted man.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

For the first time since before the outbreak of the war, Admiral Wilhelm Canaris felt somewhat at ease.

National Socialism was dead, his spy networks were reinforced with alien technology, and he was undisputedly the invisible hand of the Fourth Reich at least for the time being. He had no oversight, no opposition, and no rivals. For the first time ever he would have free reign over the fledgling Reich and there would be nothing substantial to stand in his way.

So it was strange that in his triumph, he wanted nothing more than simple things for the time being. Today he was touring Essen. Relatively unaffected by the civil war, Canaris found himself doing old man activities -wandering the streets of the city until he got to the town square. There he had begun feeding the birds. He was doing his utmost to remain casual. Perhaps he was a little too causal.

While his powerbase was now unopposed by anyone other than outside foreign military powers, he still had to remain on his guard for lone wolfs. At the moment there was one who had been stalking him for about a week now. He was one of those annoyances that would be handled one way or another. Having him killed would be such a waste, hence why Canaris was standing out in the middle of the town's square. Why he kept his back turned to the solitary uniformed armed man walking towards him briskly.

"I wouldn't be very good at my job if didn't keep a tab on every men who wanted me dead," Canaris spoke as the boots behind him stopped. "I can't say I'm not particularly surprised that it would be you. Was this on Otto Skorzeny's orders?"

As Canaris finally turned around, he found the young former Brandenburger Commando Adrian von Fölkersam. His arms behind his back as he watched the naval officer feed scratch to the birds. He looked dead exhausted, his camouflage fatigues were a fluttered as he stared dead eyed at the Admiral. His hands fell to his side and gripped the strap of the assault rifle on his shoulder.

As nerve wrecking as it may have been that an angered, trained killer was staring him down, Canaris kept control and continued his focus on the birds. He certainly wasn't foolish enough to be without his protection detail. It was not overt like many men in his position would want. They came in the form of snipers in the adjacent buildings around the square he was standing alone in.

Fölkersam was not a foolish man. He likely knew as well. All of this was posturing, the games played by men driven to the brink, and Adrian was a man driven to the brink. He spent months under the nose of the SS and their insanity, even worse, in the pocket of Otto Skorzeny – a known egomaniac - who wanted nothing more than to have his barely German blood recognized in the pantheon of Germanic heroes.

Reluctantly Adrian came somewhat back to his senses. His hand fell off the strap of his weapon. His eyes were wide as he stared at the Admiral.

" _You_ were Skorzeny's source, weren't you?" he breathed as he stepped forwards to join the Chief of the Abwehr. "You were the one who helped him attack the _Kareon_? We all were so sure that it was a disgruntled quarian. But no, it had to have been you. There are only maybe four or five men in your position who have been to the _Kareon_ … You were the only one clever enough to make the quarians do your dirty work for you… You figured out their systems, tactics, procedures and technology… you sent transmissions…"

Canaris remained silent as he continued to spread another hand full of seed. Inwardly, however, he could not help but swell up with pride. He had been toe to toe with quarian and SS spy chief's, convinced Wilhelm Bittrich to send Fölkersam to Skorzeny, and the only one to realize what occurred was Adrian von Fölkersam -a simple soldier who figured it out before the likes of the wily Heydrich or the mastermind Halid'Zorah himself. A young man trained by the combat arm of the Abwehr.

Yes… there certainly was a sense of pride in that.

"But quarian technology is a nightmare to understand at my advanced age," the Admiral decided to string the young man along, just because he could. "How I possibly figure that out and hatch a plot to convince SS men that it was a genuine source?"

Adrian did not reply. He held his stern eyes hard on the elder Admiral as though he was scolding him from a deeply disturbing crime. Deciding enough was enough; Canaris stood up straight and pocketed his bag of seed. He finally turned around to face the Waffen-SS man, whose hand had fallen to his pistol belt this time. Still he remained silent, allowing his victorious expression cross from behind his stoic shield.

He watched as Von Fölkersam blanched.

"Hitler had no business standing trial," Canaris verbalized his victory to the soldier. "It did not take a master of perception to see that if someone bloodied the nose of quarians, they would react with overwhelming force. This civil war would have been avoided altogether if they took an active role at the beginning. We needed one final moment of chaos, and then calm as the aliens stepped up. So at the expense of dozens of quarians, I did the only right thing: Force the spiders to stop playing with its meal and take action."

Canaris gestured to the young man to follow. Staring at the Admiral for a moment, Adrian nodded and together the two men started walking.

"And what happens now?" he demanded to know.

"We have done all that we possibly can do for the moment. Now we sit back and allow the consequences of our actions to play out," Canaris returned as they walked. "We are resilient, we will make it through the rocky years ahead of us; and I am confident that no serious loose end has been left to cause us any headache."

Next to him, the young man frowned. It was clear that the former Brandenburger wasn't exactly inclined to believe what the Abwehr chief was telling him.

"What about Skorzeny and Kaltenbrunner? They are certainly loose ends. They will cause immense problems in the future," Adrian pointed out to Canaris, his tone rough. "I've heard… talk… that Kaltenbrunner has smuggled billions out of the country. More than enough to finance private wars pro bono for the next few decades…"

Canaris nodded. Yes, Kaltenbrunner was a problem that would have to be closely monitored by everyone. However even problems like him could make themselves useful, and Canaris intended on making that mass murderer as useful as possible before the inevitable termination of the contract made between Kaltenbrunner and Admiral Zorah.

"They will only be trouble should we not pay a close eye on them. Kaltenbrunner and Skorzeny still have their uses; it is better to dirty their hands than ours. And if something goes wrong, thankfully Kaltenbrunner inadvertently created the perfect kill switch if they get out of hand and begin working against our interests…"

Adrian stopped moving. His eyes were wide. The young man was quick to comprehend just what the Admiral was talking about. Canaris could not help but smirk as he too stopped and turned back to face the young soldier, stunned by the implication. Kaltenbrunner's killing of Emmi Skorzeny not a state secret to Canaris. It did not take a genius to know that Kaltenbrunner thought he had pulled off a masterstroke by murdering her and nearly the child. It was sloppy work and such a calling card for Kaltenbrunner to do.

Still, Canaris was not about to argue. It made Skorzeny active in the death of the Reich and would make him a useful pawn in the next few years. For now stringing along Skorzeny was the best course. Once the so-called 'Paladin Group' outlived its usefulness, it would not take much to reveal the truth to Skorzeny, who would inevitable burn the organization to the ground and kill Kaltenbrunner on the Abwehr's behalf. It was pure genius, really...

"Are the quarians in on this?"

Canaris glanced back to the inquisitive stare of Adrian von Fölkersam. He appeared to be utterly disturbed. The Admiral smiled and shook his head.

"No," he stated. "They may be our new friends, but since when has spies openly trusted unusually generous benefactors?"

Just behind him Canaris heard boots come to a standstill. The Admiral walked several more paces before he too came to a halt. He did not turn around right away.

"All of this is well and good, but you have forgotten one thing already: I don't have a future anymore," Adrian spoke up. His voice was strained with a burden of hopelessness. "I can kill you right now, and then you don't have one as well. I don't think that was exactly something you planned on either."

Sighing, Wilhelm Canaris turned back and found the Waffen-SS man was once again gripping his rifle. Canaris knew better than to disbelieve the commitment of the radicalized former Brandenburger. Everything he did over the past few months. The quarian he had to torture, the lies he partook in. All of it was dedicated to save Adolf Hitler. All that work was undone in a day.

"Quit being so dramatic," Canaris chastised him abruptly, startling the young man. "Life is full of disappointment, but you will get over it and find a new cause. You have served your part well, but it does not have to end like this."

"I did it for the Führer, for the Fatherland's honour," Fölkersam argued back viciously. "I didn't do it for you or your game."

Canaris groaned as his hand pressed against his face. National Socialists would have been comically deluded if they hadn't caused so much death over the past ten years.

"But you did do it for me. You convinced Dalad'Voar to ultimately help me, you took intuitive and helped convince Skorzeny not to gas the _Kareon_ again for me, you even made sure those quarian prisoners captured were treated with dignity," Canaris reminded the young man softly. "Adrian, you were a cog –an important cog - but still just a cog. This game was never about you, and you were a bit player at best."

"But do remember, Fölkersam," he tacked on hastily as the fire grew in Adrian's eyes. "A bit player can always improve his own standing; and I always remember those who help me. The way that I see it, there are two… well, three options you can take."

Canaris' comment was enough to relax Adrian. Slowly the commando let go of the strap of his rifle once again and forced himself to calm and listen to what the Admiral had to say. It was just enough of an opening for Canaris to use. He stepped forward and placed his hand on his shoulder. Like a Father comforting a son. The young man likely saw through it, but it did not bother Canaris.

"First: You can be reinstated back into the Brandenburgers and the Heer if you'd like," Canaris spoke up again. "Erich von Manstein will need special operations forces behind the Soviet lines in 1944, and who better than you leading the charge? You will have a distinguished military career, full of honours and promotions –but ultimately your mission successes will likely never be considered tactical necessity. Your glory will be as hollow as the glory in the British Dunkirk evacuation or Rommel's taking of Tobruk. Because in the end, the coming 1944/45 offensives will not fail because the quarians will not allow their training operation to fail…"

Canaris let go of Adrian's shoulder.

"Of course there is more pressing campaign which you could take up…" he silkily pressed on. "The thing is it would be a long term investment: You will follow Skorzeny and Kaltenbrunner to Spain in order to keep a close eye on them for us... You will have a career truly defending Germany from long term threats, but you will likely never be acknowledged for it, you will never see Germany again and it will kill you in the end…"

Canaris stepped backwards and raised one hand over his head. A crack from a rifle rang out; the round slamming into the ground between Canaris and Fölkersam. The young man jumped back in shock, his eyes darted to the many windows in which the shot may have come from.

"Or you can raise that gun at me, take a chance at killing me, but either way my sniper teams take you out here and now," Canaris continued without a hint of malice to his voice "You'll be remembered as another fanatical SS man who assassinated a good man. I will be made a martyr for this new Reich, and you will be forgotten like the others… You will be just another faceless, twisted fool following National Socialism's death knell."

Canaris fell silent and waited until Fölkersam managed to tear his eyes from the buildings around him. Slowly the Admiral pulled his hand back down to his side as the man realized that there was nothing that stood between him and his own premature demise now.

"So, Adrian…?" Canaris finished with a smile as soon as the young man looked at him once again. "What will it be?"

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

For the first time in nearly ten years Joachim found himself in a position where he was virtually a civilian again. To say it was a weird feeling would have been a massive understatement.

Within an hour of leaving Manstein's command centre, he found himself in the company of a liaison officer of Manstein and a banker. Both men informed him that an account in his name was in need of a signature. In the account was a grand total of 142,960.80 Reichsmarks –his missing Heer and Waffen-SS pay for 8 months, the pay he accumulated before his accounts were drained and frozen, the loss of property in Kiel and Potsdam, and a sixty thousand Reichsmarks bonus. This was on top of an allowance of 243 Reichsmarks a month as a designated reservist. It was more money than Joachim could have ever imagined he would have.

Money in hand so to speak he caught the next shuttle he could find and went directly back home to Kiel. First he had to hand over his command to the next in command Oberst Claus von Stauffenberg, then he would head to the hotel he and Hanala were keeping Saleb at for the time being. He could not wait to tell Hanala about it. This was everything they had been hoping for since her decision to begin including Joachim into her new phase in life.

It was a conversation that was put on hold for the time being. By the time he concluded his business with Claus von Stauffenberg gave his troops a farewell and got back to the temporary residence of Hanala and him, he found himself in the midst of a gathering. Visiting Hanala and Saleb was Alaan and Galina. All of them appeared to be cooking… well… whatever it was that quarians ate outside of their suits.

As dinner progress, every now and then Joachim found himself in a state of relaxation he only ever really felt in the presence of the Langer's. Perhaps at long last, the Jarva's (or rather Alaan and Galina) did not view him as some sort of entity to be mistrusted or the source of curiosity and amusement. Perhaps for the first time they finally saw the human as an extension to their own family. That was a nice thought, but unlikely. Joachim would settle for 'tolerated' at the moment. He did not want to push it too much. Still, he was rather relieved that the strain appeared to have been waning.

At the moment, the three politicians in the room: Hanala, Galina and Alaan, who were deep in a conversation about the new geopolitical situation that would inevitably occur when quarians were settled in. Quarians, as it turned out, were not an amalgamated state like Joachim assumed. They had their regions and countries back on Rannoch. Descendants of those nationalities would have to decide whether or not to continue that once the cities were constructed, or wait until the liberation of Rannoch. The longer they lived on earth, the more complicated it might become. The people of Rannoch might get restless and split up the unified front they would attempt to hold in the face of their new human neighbours. The last thing Earth needed was a quarian war….

Whatever the case, the conversation was rather boring and held no talking points for Hoch to chime in on, even if he wanted to. It did not matter. He focused on his own dinner and light conversation with Saleb, who told him about spending the day with Hanala, Magda Goebbels and her children. That she was being taught the game of football. It was a topic infinitely more interesting. It had been his own sport of choice before he enlisted, and considering how agile quarians were, football would inevitable find themselves facing a team full of quarians for the World Cup…. Should it ever be restored of course… or opened to German and quarian participation ever again…

On occasion in the lull in conversation with the Saleb, Joachim would look up and found Hanala across the table, smiling. It was clear that she was enjoying his new position as a… stay-at-home guardian. It was a title that was already bothering him ten hours into his leave of absence. It felt wrong for him not to have anything to do other than tend to the needs of a child rather than the needs of thousands of fighting men.

He supposed he would have things to do while Hanala was busy. Joachim had his back pay and reimbursements sitting in a bank account in Königsberg. He supposed it would be time to look into property; a real home somewhere warm or temperate. He doubted very much about the durability of desert dwelling quarians living in the chilly German winters. Hanala might have managed it, but a child? Joachim wasn't sure he wanted to subject her to that.

A knock on the door caught everyone's attention right away. Glancing to Alaan and Hanala for a moment, Joachim pushed back his seat and stepped out of the dining room of the vacant hotel and opened the door. Standing there was one of the guards assigned to him. As the guard attempted to start, Joachim held up his hand and closed the door first, so that there would be no disturbance to the other.

" _Yes_?" he finally spoke aloud to the sentry.

"Herr Oberst, you have a visitor at the door," he informed the off-duty officer. "She claims to be your Mother."

Joachim froze up, his eyes widened at the sentry. What.

This couldn't be… No, it had to be impossible. Surely she was smart enough to know not to come within a kilometre of him…

"I asked for her identification, but she refused to comply, she wanted to be rejected by you personally," the Sentry tacked on. Joachim growled under his breath.

That certainly sounded like Mother to him.

Scowling, Joachim pushed by the soldier, stamping down the marble floor towards the front doors. This was not happening... this could not have been happening. His Mother swore up and down that they would never see each other again. Joachim was perfectly fine with that. He was done trying to get her to love him, or respect him, or even so much as acknowledge his existence.

It did not take long to find her. She was standing shoulder to shoulder with two guards in the main lobby. It did not give him any time to take a moment and think about what he was going to say with her. So instead he chose to forgo niceties and civility. She had her chance to make amends. She decided to flee instead. The link was cut. There could not be a means to repair it.

"You two back to your post," Joachim ordered the two sentries. He stood still in front of Mother and waited until the two men exited the hotel.

As the doors closed behind them, Joachim crossed his arms together.

"What are you doing here?"

There was a good, long silence between the estranged family left in the wake of Joachim's rather pointed remark. Quietly Marta rubbed her arm, her eyes averted away from her son.

"I wish I knew why," she mumbled, most of her boisterous voice subdued now. "I just felt… compelled to see you before I left the country."

Staring at Marta for a moment, Joachim waved her off and turned his back, his boots stomping back in the direction of where he had left the Jarva's. He had no time for this. He had this conversation some time ago. He was not a goddamn masochist He was not about to subject himself to anymore grief then he already had to deal with. He was done with her. It was time for him to move on to –depressingly enough- his third family.

"Joachim…" he heard called out behind him. "I wanted to apologize to you."

Just keep walking he told himself. He had no obligations to sate her thirst to quest for a personal redemption. She did not deserve another moments worth of attention from him.

"You are my son and it is my obligation to make the first move. I failed last time; your presence was unsettling and I just… forgot to be your Mother. You sought me out and tried to find a way to make peace, but I refused it. Please grant me this chance to correct that."

Joachim found himself no longer walking away from Marta. _No, no, no…_ for Christ's sake, this was exactly what he did not want to happen -slippery words and a half confession, and that was just enough to convince that he was obligated to hear her out. Was he really that naïve enough to believe this awful creature again?

Groaning as he turned around, apparently he was that naïve.

"I was under the impression you were leaving," Joachim finally addressed her as he focused in on her. "Why haven't you yet? Why are you bothering me?"

Taking an unsteady breath, Marta slowly shuffled over towards her son. Joachim remained perfectly still until she got a little too close for his comfort. He took as he a stride back; Marta took a hint and came to a stop. She tilted her head to one side as she looked at her scarred son properly. Her eyes fell and took notice to the rolled up sleeve, revealing his artificial limb. Marta bit her lip and tore her eyes away from the familiar sight and focused on her son yet again.

"Your Ukrainian friend dropped by when I was packing up," Marta confessed to Joachim, her voice almost shy. "She told me just about everything she knew about you. She said that I needed to take a closer look at you myself. She also said you would send her back east, please do not do that. She's a nice girl."

Joachim glowered at the confession. Tatiyana Andrusiv had gave her word that she would not make mention of anything she bore witness to. What in the hell was up with that girl and needing to stick her nose into other people's business? Was it a woman thing? She was nearly as bad as Hanala; except Tatiyana never got his arm blown off.

Muttering furiously at the treachery of that Slav he took pity on, he rubbed his forehead. There was a strange, nostalgic smile that crossed Marta's mouth as she watched him.

"You know… you're a lot more like your Father than I realized... I mean… before he lost himself," Marta spoke again. "There is an innate desire in you to want to do good by others, and I can admire that strength you have. It could be such a source for change… and considering that National Socialism has collapsed and the world has… well… changed. I suppose I believe that now… now that I know what you have done."

Marta rubbed her mouth. Her eyes were downcast, apparently too ashamed to meet her son's expression. Joachim could not blame her. His anger was already seething.

"You followed down a terrible path, but it was I who freely allowed you to do in a drunken haze," Marta continued in a low tone. "The only thing that numbed the pain of losing your brothers and Father was by drinking. I should have done more for you. I should have taken a more proactive role in your life. I could have taught you better. I should have taken the time to care for you… I was just s-"

"Oh, would just shut up?!" Joachim roared at the woman.

The buzzing of conversation coming from the Jarva family went dead silent at the screaming which echoed throughout the abandoned hotel. Joachim couldn't care less that he exploded. He watched as his mother nearly jumped at the statement. With good reason too considering their last encounter ended not much better than this encounter.

"This is the best you can do?" he hissed at her, his face contorted into an expression of bubbling rage. "You're interrupting my first genuine family gathering in fifteen years and that was all you had to say? A pitiful lament about how things were so terrible for you?"

He took a step back and grinned rather viciously at the woman, who was staring at Joachim in a state of stunned silence. Apparently the mention of a family caught her completely off guard. He had made mention that he wanted her to meet someone important to him during their last encounter, but only now did she seem to register the extent of what that had meant.

Marta returned to a state of silence as she her eyes lingered on her son.

"I have friends in Great Britain, who I was trying to get in contact in 1939 before the war broke out," Marta finally spoke to her son, her voice was shaking as the admissions he made started to settle into her mind. "I… I was thinking about moving to the French coast while I wait on my immigration papers to get through. I just… thought you ought to know… in case you wanted to talk again."

Joachim rolled his eyes. Marta had a lot left to learn.

"You're delusional if you actually believe Great Britain will permit migration from Germany after what High Command intends on punishing them with," Joachim muttered back to her.

There was no anger in his voice, or agitation. He was just so suddenly tired.

" _Joachim_ ," he heard called behind him. " _Who is this_?"

Joachim stiffened right up and turned back. Standing there behind him about five or so metres was Hanala, a curious smile on her pale face. As Joachim looked from Hanala, back to Marta who was staring horrifyingly transfixed on the quarian like it was some sort of monster. Hanala, to her credit did not appear to be bothered by it. Staring would be a fact of life for the next year or so.

Exhaling, Joachim stepped out of their field of view so they could get a proper look at each other. The two women looked at each other once again.

"Hanala'Jarva, this is my Mother, Marta. It turns out she's far less dead than I was informed," he introduced Hanala to Marta. He turned to his mother and, gesturing to Hanala, added. "Marta Hoch, this is Hanala'Jarva. I hope you like the quarians because you have four of them in your family now."

The introduction made, Joachim turned to leave, brushing by Hanala as he did so. It did not take long before Hanala broke out of her stupor long enough to turn around and grab Joachim by the arm, pulling him with all her weight until he came to a stop almost a half a metre. Her feet literally slid across the marble.

" _I thought she was dead!"_ she breathed, her eyes wide with astounded surprise.

Joachim glanced back to his mother, who stood there nervously now that she was in the presence of a quarian. He snorted and then pressed his lips against her forehead… partly out of affection… partly just to see mother's face tighten up in apparent disgust with the sight. Well, so much for her apparent tolerance.

"You've been in my companionship for a year and a half. Surely you know that a Hoch's favourite thing to do is fuck with the lives of others," Joachim reminded her in a low murmur. "Do what you will with her, she's said her piece to me."

With that said Joachim left, leaving Hanala gaping at him and standing awkwardly in the company with the woman who birthed him. Considering all the shit Hanala's mother put him through over the course of the year, this somehow felt justifiable.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It was quite the sight. Watching as the ambitions of the quarian people were finally realized after twenty years of hard work.

Standing in front of her window on the still in construction Pantheon Building – the first apartment high rise built in the new colony- Admiral Utala'Falan watched in stunned silence as the civilian fleet vessels _Kalin_ , _Butara_ and _Xanader_ touched down on the massive spaceport built a kilometre or so outside of the colony walls.

With the arrival of the three ships ten thousand more quarians found themselves as settlers on an already occupied world. Utala could only hope that everything would work out for them. It would be hard work at first. Massive construction efforts would have to be undertaken. The local humans would quickly find themselves being pushed towards the coast or fleeing for Egypt, Tunisia or Algeria as the Mandate grew.

There was simply no room for these local humans to diversify the Mandate. They could not be trusted to live in harmony with the quarian people. There would simply be far too much tension and humanity as a whole was still a very immature, suspicious species. The safety of the few quarians that survived the geth purge would need to be assured, and with unscreened and unselected humans, it became a danger that the people could not be exposed to so freely.

It was a rather xenophobic position being undertaken, yes, but the sad reality was that there was merit to the argument debated before the Conclave. There was a three hundred year technological difference, a thousand year cultural difference and a biological difference that needed to be addressed. Until both sides could begin the process of closing the gap, a sort of segregation had to be enforced. At least until the process of reclaiming the home world was underway. Only then could the opening and eventual land successions of the Mandate could begin to occur.

As she poured herself another brandy in order to forget the xeno-racism that was about to be revealed to the humans, her omni-tool communication frequency lit up to life. It was Kaal'Koris, her aide.

"Admiral, you have a visitor in the lobby."

Frowning, Utala gulped down her drink and poured herself another one for good measure. The glass half filled, she stepped out of the living room and towards the lobby in her penthouse. This was her day off. She hadn't summoned anyone to meet her on her downtime. Whoever it had been, had better have had a very good reason.

As she entered the main lobby, she paused and took a drink as she stared at the side of a face she hadn't seen since January. Standing there, traditionally dusty and unkempt was Erwin Rommel. His eyes were narrowed as he was inspecting the asari art pieces that she picked up over the years. She had expected the man to be uninterested or confused, but he seemed almost receptive. She supposed he could permit himself to look at feminine things without grimacing like his 'sophisticated' Prussian counterparts.

"I got back from escorting what was left of 1st SS Panzer Division ' _Leibstandarte'_ Division back across the Suez," he spoke without turning to face her. "I figured since I was in the neighbourhood, I would check in on you… see just how you were doing. These are exciting times I imagine…"

Utala took another drink. It was the only way she could keep herself from cursing that damn man out. Rommel could be such a pain in the ass. He was a man who seemed to believe firmly in doing things on a whim. She had plenty of things to say to him, but his sudden arrival suddenly made her start to appreciate the plight of poor Harold Alexander and the infamous encirclement of the bulk of the original British 8th Army not so long ago.

" _Neighbourhood_?" Utala finally repeated incredulously as she pulled the glass off her lips. "The Suez is well over 2000 kilometres from here."

Chuckling to himself, Rommel turned to face Utala. His mouth formed the smallest of smiles.

"With your transportation, just about any location on the planet is within reach. So… as I said, I was in the neighbourhood," he reminded her as though she had forgotten he had access to quarian assets. Looking around at the penthouse again, Rommel added. "May I come in? Or would you prefer if I left."

Utala replied by taking a drink. Reluctantly she stepped out of his way leading further into the home of the Admiral. She supposed a short visit would not be too much of a strain on her nerves.

Taking it as a sign, the Generalfeldmarschall took off his jacket and handed it to Koris and stepped onto the glass floor, his dirt covered boats clicking as his hands rested on his belt. He passed by Utala, once more he was looking around at his surroundings impressively. No small detail seemed to escape his attention.

As Koris hung up the jacket and left the two high ranking military people to their own devices, Rommel turned back to Utala, who was trailing behind the older man.

"You have a nice home, Admiral Falan," he complimented her. "It's rather… _futuristic_ , I suppose."

Utala arched her brow at the remark. Sometimes she forgot that everything the quarians considered mundane would be shiny and new to the eyes of the humans.

"No, it's one of the many styles of our people before our exile nearly fifty years ago," Utala addressed his remark as she began walking side to side with the Generalfeldmarschall. "We have a long way to go before we are back on track and begin advancing our aesthetic tastes."

Next to her, Rommel nodded and fell silent, his head low as they entered the open lounge. Utala slumped down onto the couch; her eyes never left Rommel's back as he went to look out the windows overlooking the vast colony city hub in the midst of construction. Slowly his hands wrapped behind his back. He appeared to be in the midst of a personal debate.

Far too buzzed to make the first move, Utala remained silent. Rommel would voice his issue if he wanted it addressed. It was just how human males seemed to operate. Besides, she was still rather disheartened that he did not once contact her over the course of the past six months. He had every reason to feel guilty, and he was busy, but it was no excuse to ignore her even on a strictly professional basis.

Finishing her drink, Utala set down the glass on the table and glanced up to find Rommel had turned around. Silently he took a seat across from her and crossed one leg over the other.

"I haven't been particularly kind to you as of late," he admitted to her carefully, his words guarded. "You understand why that has been the case, right? It is not an excuse, but rather an explanation. There is a certain amount shame I felt in the wake of… well… her death. To face you… it was a reminder of just how much I failed as a husband to her."

Whatever anger Utala felt for the man vanished quickly; this admittance of his personal shortcomings must have been a hard thing to speak out loud to with her. It was a brave move, even considering who the man was…

Utala reached over the glass table and took one of Rommel's hands.

"You loved her," she reminded him, forcing herself to smile kindly for the man still deep in grief. "We are not perfect. We will make mistakes; but even when we were… you know… I knew you loved her. I knew you wrote to her every day. Infidelity is not a one person crime. I am just as much to blame. Lucie deserved better respect from me as well…"

Rommel's mouth quirked up into a faint smile at her words, slowly he squeezed her hand back. After a moment or so he let go of her hand and stood up from his seat once again. He moved around the table and slumped down into the seat next to her.

"You are not at fault… I have had a long history of infidelity, particularly in my youth. I… ruined the life of my first fiancée in order to get Lucie. Walburga – the woman I was supposed to marry… she loved me, but I did not – It was an obligation. She never recovered… eventually she took her life," Rommel went on, his confession still apparently not done with. Rubbing his mouth, he looked up to suddenly horrified Utala.

"I am not proud of it, nor will I apologize for it," Rommel murmured. "My infidelity eventually gave me my son. It does not justify it, of course… but it certainly makes my condemnation of it that much harder…"

As the man fell silent, Utala looked on the still grieving father and widower. She knew better than to attempt to console him. The last thing he likely wanted to hear was the platitudes of the woman who more or less instigated the affair herself. Rommel was simply too noble (or perhaps a little chauvinistic) to place the blame where it rightfully deserved to be place.

"I have been thinking about Admiral Jalina'Calis lately," Rommel admitted as Utala leaned forward to pour herself another drink. "She seemed like a good woman in the few minutes I knew her… but all things considered; she certainly fouled her research up, didn't she?"

The comment was enough to break the demure setting between the two of them. Utala could not help but break out into a hard laugh at the remark of the Generalfeldmarschall's remark. Yes… Admiral Jalina'Calis had certainly underestimated the extent of which the hell that National Socialism had been. So many lives were lost in an attempt to rectify her jumping onto a side…

"I think she may have made a rush to judgement in putting her faith in National Socialism…" Utala agreed as she swallowed her drink. "But I also suppose that in her twilight, she wanted nothing better than to see our people making our first steps on this planet… like you, she was not perfect either…"

Rommel chuckled and nodded.

"No… but she was right about one thing," Rommel mused to her, offering the Admiral a sideways glance. "I think that the relationship between human and quarian will be long and prosperous one… if it survives the first decades."

As she set the glass of brandy in her lap, Utala shifted around in her seat in order to face Erwin properly.

"It will," she reassured him kindly. "No doubt that it will be messy, but we will stumble into cohesion. We will find a way to make it work. We are now _Sarethu_ now. Cousins… family… "

Swirling her drink back and forth, Utala leaned back into her seat.

"When the Grand Crusade across the Veil begins, the galaxy will tremble at our union, and not just the geth… but everyone who crosses our path with ill intent in their heart," she concluded, not paying attention to Rommel's leery stare. "That is our promise to our ancestors and that is the guarantee of our descendants to us…"

Rommel simply did not have the words to reply to the dark plans on Utala's drunken mind. He chose instead to remain silent and watch as the civilian frigates burn back up into the atmosphere.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Marta Hoch was… well… a rather frightening woman for a civilian.

She may have been sixty, but she certainly didn't look it. It was absolutely fascinating to see just how similar they looked. Hanala always imagined he had looked like his Father, but it was clearly Marta whom he took all of her traits from. Icy blue eyes, a sharp, angular face, and the stern, sour expression they shared even when they were relatively relaxed.

She made no interactions with anyone. She did not look at, or acknowledge Mother or Father, who tersely greeted her; she did not acknowledge Saleb, who was far more polite to her than she was to Joachim during their first encounter. She did not accept anything that Joachim had made for his dinner; she simply took a seat, crossed her hands together in her lap and remained silent for the past hour.

Without so much as a warning, Hanala found herself in a position where she would have to be a peacekeeper. It was an annoying position to be in and made her start to appreciate her late brother's tenacities to make common ground. As such, Hanala decided against harassing Joachim about the subject. Joachim was barely holding it together as it was. There was a seething malice for his mother that he was keeping suppressed for the sake of civility for the rest of the Jarva clan.

Joachim wasn't the only one to be like this. Marta also clearly resented her son as well. His choices ran parallel to hers. She might have been attempting to offer a truce for their feud, but she appeared close to losing control herself. The Hoch family was filled to the brim with bad blood, and it was unlikely to ever be fully rectified.

Hanala attempted anything she possible could to keep the woman comforted. Keelah, she went so far as to break out the German she had been teaching herself over the past few years. She was very proud of how much she had learned, as had Joachim. Marta was not impressed in the slightest. The moment communication seemed possible, the woman switched to English, which Hanala's translation device could pick up. When she realized she had been deciphered, Marta then switched immediate to what Hanala assumed was French - a language her software program hadn't identified yet.

Joachim, as it turned out, was right. Marta was a stone cold bitch.

After about forty five minutes of attempted small talk with Joachim's mother, Marta Hoch was quick to excuse herself. She took off with only the briefest of farewell's and left Hanala standing there still holding the tea she went out of the way to make for her. Clearly Marta was also the source of Joachim's nerve…

As she said farewell to Mother and Father, who wanted to head to the Mandate and begin the process of a land claim, Hanala wandered through the halls of the hotel; searching for signs of life.

She was quick to find it. Through the hallways bolted Joachim and Saleb. Joachim was kicking some sort of ball, with Saleb hot on his trail, screaming excitedly as she knocked over a light table and continued her chase. As soon as Saleb jumped on him, Joachim twisted his foot out and kicked it hard; past Hanala's head and hit the framed picture of Adolf Hitler hanging on the wall. The glass smashed as the portrait smashed to the ground.

Joachim fell to his knees and slid on the hardwood floor. He threw his arms in the air and hooted out a victory cry.

 _ **"And the Führer is toast!"**_ Joachim announced rather dramatically. He twisted back to Saleb to add. **"Victory for Team Hoch… better luck next time Team Jarva!"**

Straightening herself out from her defensive stance, Hanala could not help but smile as she watched Saleb push Joachim against the wall. Hoch cackled and directed his attention to Hanala. Exhaling, he forced himself back up to his feet. He scooped up the ball and tossed it to Saleb, who caught it and tucked it under her arm like she was already some sort of expert.

"The boss is here," Joachim spoke ominously. "Practice your dribbling in the main lobby. If you need a practice partner, enlist one of the soldiers at the door, okay?"

Saleb nodded, and shooting one last smile to her aunt, she bolted by her, leaving Joachim and her alone. Joachim groaned as he stretched out. Even from where she stood he could hear him pop the joint in his shoulder. Hanala stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"You seem to be in a better mood," she could not help but openly observe. She grinned ads Joachim wrapped his arm around her shoulder as well. Slowly he nodded. He seemed relaxed, all things considered.

"Yeah, I had a cigarette, found a football and decided that my Mother was not worth having an aneurysm over," Joachim replied gaily. As he slowly guided Hanala down the path Saleb took, he added. "If she wants to leave, that is her prerogative. I'm not going to grieve over someone who doesn't want me in her life. I get that now. It's time to move on to better things."

 _Better things…_

She truly did like the sound of that. With Joachim now a permanent fixture in her life for at least a year, things between Saleb, Joachim and her could finally start to advance. Joachim would no longer be called away for service; Hanala would not have to return back to the fleet back and forth every day. At long last a sense of stability could be achieved. Something Saleb would desperately need in the coming months.

Almost bouncing on the tips of her toes in anticipation for what the future held, she turned and found Joachim looking down on her in a rather curious fashion. Like it had been the first time he met her or something ridiculous like that. Hanala dropped her grip on Joachim, slipped out of his arms and stepped back from him. Her smile broke into a confused smile for him.

" _Better things…_ and what is that, exactly?" Hanala finally inquired, crossing her arms over her chest. "Plotting out another adventure where we get ourselves in a heap of trouble?"

Joachim cracked a grin at the remark.

"No…that is your expertise," he reminded her as the grin relaxed into a sweeter expression. "I was thinking we should get married."

Hanala's eyes bulged as she heard the suggestion uttered by Joachim so casually.

Married… he wanted to get married…

Hanala expected this day would happen, where they would settle down. Make the relationship as official as it could possibly get and begin a life truly together in every possible way. But only hours into his medical leave and Joachim was already looking for a commitment from her? What exactly was going on in that head of his?

It wasn't that she wasn't flattered. She was just… confused by the rush.

"And what makes you say that?" Hanala breathed, her head tilted as she stared up into his gaze.

The sweet smile he wore vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Joachim could only really shrug. It was clear that he had expected her to jump up and down screaming yes the moment he uttered the words. It must have been a human thing – spontaneous declarations of lifelong bonds.

"I'm not sure, for a moment I thought you would welcome it. We have this thing going on now. It should be official, I suppose," Joachim hastily defended his stance. "I wouldn't want people to think of the relationship as…well…"

He trailed off and waved his arms as though that meant something to her. Hanala squinted at him. So… he wanted to marry her because it was expected out of him now that he was involved in Saleb's life? She wasn't sure whether or not to be insulted by that. Commitment ceremonies were sort of an important thing to her people. She narrowed her eyes at Joachim as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

That was when she paused and came to a startling realization: The great Joachim Hoch was actually nervous! Keelah… this was an extraordinarily rare event to behold. It was an event that Hanala just had to tease him for. You simply could not pass up moments such as these…

"Oh Keelah…you are _such_ a romantic, Joachim!" she cried out, her hands coming together as though she was swooning. "It's just _sooo_ awe inspiring how passionate you are!"

Hanala exploded into a merciless cackle. Joachim glared at her and it only made Hanala's howling at his expensive increase in volume.

 _"Well… whatever…"_ Joachim mumbled as the laughter made him increasingly more irritable by her teasing. "I do mean it; I want to marry you, Hanala... if you'd have me, of course."

Hanala decided enough was enough. As her laughter subsided, a kind look crossed over her expression. She stepped forward to close the gap between Joachim and her. Her fingers reached out, grazing against his chin as she smiled sweetly up to him. It was enough to relax Joachim's worried expression.

"It's a nice thought… marriage… Keelah, you're not the only one with it on the mind," Hanala finally admitted to him, her fingers touching against his scar tissue. "However, we can't legally get married. It's going to be a while before any sort of laws regarding mixed species marriage becomes signed, until then, we should take some time. We will need to sort out a few things first before we make such a commitment…"

She paused for a moment before she too shrugged and grinned.

"Not to mention we're quite explosive together," she tacked on. "We both have our problems, which you and I have to address for the sake of Saleb and… well… any others we somehow bring into the picture."

Joachim arched his brow at the remark she let slip.

 _"Others we somehow bring into the picture?"_

Slowly, Hanala nodded her head. She found herself broaching a subject she was both shy and uncomfortable with. Her fertility problems would be a massive issue they would have to address. For now… she supposed that it would be alright to dream…

"Well… yes. One day when we mellow down," Hanala's shyness crossed over into her voice as she replied. "I'm frightened about how much we'll scar Saleb as it is. Bringing more into the picture becomes so much more mortifying…"

As Joachim laughed finally and nodded in complete understanding, Hanala stepped forward once again in order to wrap her arms around his neck, her height shifted as she stood on the tips of her toes in order to press her lips out against to his. Joachim was quick to return it. It wasn't exactly a proposal, and it certainly wasn't an official commitment either… but it would be enough for now.

"Besides," Hanala spoke as she pulled herself back and let go of him. "Even if we could get married tomorrow, I very much doubt that you are good marriage material for me yet."

The words, used once by Joachim in order to tease her from a time which felt like years ago, had been long remembered by Hanala. It made Joachim freeze up in shock. Hanala broke down into a fit of laughter, but quickly came back to her senses as she yelped and bolted away from the furious Joachim Hoch, who was intending on making her pay for her words. He chased her all the way back to where Saleb would be practicing football. From there the child would most certainly stop the marauding human.

Although the union between man and quarian was founded upon a future war, even though deadly total war continued to be waged unchecked, terrible crimes remained unpunished and evil men managed to talk their way out of answering for their actions, the future still seemed so much brighter than Joachim and Hanala possibly could have imagined.

For the first time they dared to hope that perhaps they would make it through after all.

 _ **The End**_

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

 **Changes: Clean up**

 **So ends the clean-up effort for the Uplifted series. I might have to go back to Uplifted and Intervention and do another scan through, but that will be a later date. Thanks for being patient with me. I just needed a window of time to focus on it and November turned out to be it.**

 **I will not claim that this is a perfect editing. But I am satisfied with it for the time being. The re-examination of this series really highlighted some of the glaring weaknesses I had and perhaps still have. Most notably how** _ **fucking**_ **chatty Joachim Hoch was… I mean, the guy basically spilled his guts on every random fucking person. Every moment he could have to brood, it was seized. I did my best to reduce it and in general, the need to explain things in greater detail than necessary.**

 **And Jesus... the Edge... My only excuse seems to be it was the first serious series I sat down wrote and completed.**

 **As I mentioned earlier, I will not just start dumping the next story right away. I am reworking it to be focused the second and generation Hoch family as well as a quarian outside of the family. Right now I am deciding the fate of Daelia'Vael and Adam Ackerson. I like them as characters, but not as mains. If you are an old reader who knew them, let me know your opinion.**

 **Other than that, thanks for reading**


End file.
